


All the love in the world (doesn't fill a broken heart)

by Nieri_is_a_cat



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, But I do know that I tried to give Selina some Spanish since she's half cuban, Creepy Ra's al Ghul, De-Aged Tim Drake, Do they succeed? Maybe, Drama's gonna startttt, Everyone has feelings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I still don't know what I'm doing send help pls, I wanted to have her speak some spanish, I'm still unsure, Jotanna only appeared for one chapter but I want to write more about them so they'll appear more, Mentions of Violence, Mild Angst, Not much since it's a few words here and there, Ra's Al gh did appear so I added him to the official tags, SO, There's some angst but there will also be fluff, They're trying to do things right, Threats of Violence, Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake's Missing Spleen, also the title may change, also tim is a small genius and you can pry this from my cold dead hands, bear with me, because it will probably become a bit relevant later on, but hey, c'est la fucking vie, ehhhhh, i do not know, i still don't know how to tag, i'm a dramatic bitch this explains the title, no beta we die like robins, ra's al ghul will probably appear, sue me, what is canon again?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nieri_is_a_cat/pseuds/Nieri_is_a_cat
Summary: Tim finds out time travel is real, gets kidnapped and becomes eight-year old again, but not in this order. Might be a dream, though, he doesn't know.
Relationships: John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Everyone, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 242
Kudos: 560





	1. a.k.a. When you think your day can’t become any more weird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexandredumas_eatyourheartout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandredumas_eatyourheartout/gifts).



> I don't have any fricking idea where I'm going with this. Only regular update will be next chapter because it's already written. Have I already mentioned I don't know what I'm doing? I just love baby Timbo so I decided to write him :)
> 
> Nieri

It had been a fatality, a random toss of dices, and really, it could’ve been any of them. It hadn’t. 

Nightwing had been the first to react, running towards the pile of clothes, followed immediately by Batman. Red Hood stayed back, and so did Robin, neither of them comfortable enough to even try and get closer. 

Before Nightwing could do something, though, from the pile appeared a small dark-haired head, bright blue eyes wide open and focused on Batman. Tim. Baby Tim. Small, tiny Tim.  _ Oh fucking god, that was Tim _ . 

Nightwing crouched at the kid’s height, and Tim just stared at him, a measured stare, calculating, Red Hood would’ve said, if he knew it wasn’t possible. Kids that small and young and tiny shouldn’t be able to even know what calculating means. And yet here Tiny Tim was. 

They brought Tim home, after that, Barbara asking the Birds to do patrol in their stead, and they were now surrounding Tim, perched on a stool near the kitchen counter, Damian’s clothes hanging awkwardly from him and eating warm soup silently. Thank god for Alfred, honestly. 

“So, Timmy, right?” Dick had also been the first one to speak, how weird, “How old are you?” 

Tim stared at him a few seconds, eyes devoid of any emotion, then went back to his soup, ignoring them. 

They all exchanged a worried glance, and why wasn’t Tim answering? Bruce nudged Dick to have him do something once again, since he was the most friendly between them.

“Hey Timmy, I’m Dick. Grayson.” Dick tried once again, “Do you remember me? At the circus? Flying in the air? Only for you?” 

At that Tim  _ did _ perk up and stare at him with focus and intensity. “You’re too old.” he said after a while, little brows furrowed in a frown, “You should be thirteen going on fourteen, but you’re way older...” 

_ What now? _

“And that means,” little Tim went on, “that I’m either dreaming a very realistic dream or I traveled through time like in that book of H. G. Wells I read last month. Or like the Doctor. But I don’t remember any blue police boxes anywhere, and that’s all fiction anyway. Though time travel might be possible; like, using Einstein’s field equations of general relativity, time travel is theoretically possible through wormholes… you know, since EFEs describe the curvature of spacetime and the matter within it, and their solutions are the metrics of spacetime, which include the movement of objects within it an-” 

_ Uh? What the fuck Tim? _ Jason frowned at the boy. If he thought Dick should be about fourteen, Tim must be around eight or nine and he was talking about general relativity?  _ Jesus Christ, kid. _

“What, and I honestly cannot emphasize it enough, the fucking fuck, kid?!” he interrupted the imp.

Outraged cries of “Jason!”, “Master Jason!” and “Language!” were heard a split second later. 

“What?!” he exclaimed, “It’s not like I’m low-key freaked out by a six year old talking about general relativity!”

“I’m eight, thank you very much!” 

“Don’t care, you look six! Who’s even letting you read books about physics?!” Jason jabbed a finger at Tim’s shoulder, then glared at the others. “Also if he’s old enough to start babbling about general relativity to us he’s old enough to hear me say ‘fuck’.” 

Alfred gave him a stern look, “That doesn’t mean he should, Master Jason. Please, leave such foul language out of my kitchen and out of young Master Timothy’s ears.” 

Jason huffed, but nodded anyway and left himself sit on the chair next to Tim’s. No one ever would disrespect Alfred, and most of all no one would ever disrespect Alfred in his  _ kitchen _ . Slowly he leaned on the counter, his head in his hands, and an expression of pure resignation on his face when he turned towards the  _ toddler _ .  _ Yes the kid is a baby and no one will ever have him think otherwise.  _

“So, what are we gonna do with him?” he asked. 

Bruce sighed, and Dick went to pat Tim’s head, “What do you think bud?” 

The kid shrugged, “I think I can go home, I don’t think Mum and Dad will be there, and I can look after myself just fine. Plus I don’t want to bother you all. Oh, may I ask if you know where Mum and Dad are currently? Or if Future Me knew when they would be back?” 

An uncomfortable silence fell in the kitchen, no one looking at the boy until Dick put his hand on his shoulder and smiled blindingly, “I think they’re in Jordan, and no, no one knows when they’ll be back, so you’re staying with us for now…” Jason saw Bruce nod, and then Dick continued, “What do you say if we all go to bed? It’s really late, and if we’re well-rested it’ll be better for trying to understand what happened to you, okay?”

Thankfully Tim nodded, and let the man guide him to his bedroom, the others staying behind and looking at the two walking away in silence. 

The uneasiness in the air didn’t disappear with tiny Tim going to bed, and it was still there when Dick came back about twenty minutes later. During the time the man was with the kid, no one had uttered a word, even if Jason was itching to and knew the others were too. It had been the almost after-thought question, the one they didn’t expect Tim to ask. And really, Dick had done the right thing outright lying to the boy, because what were they going to say to the imp; “ _ I’m sorry, your parents have been dead for years and you have been adopted by a serial adopter because you’re an orphan _ ”? Yes,  _ as if _ . 

And that was the moment Dick came back. “I think,” he had said from the door, “that it’s not time travel, whatever Timmy keeps thinking...”

“And what makes you think so?” Bruce asked, eyes focusing musingly on the man.

And that was Jason’s cue. “I don’t think it’s not time travel. I know it isn’t.” 

Everyone turned towards him, and really, Jason shouldn’t have gotten annoyed at Dick’s and Bruce’s surprised expressions, it had been years since he was, but the reality was that he was annoyed. Apparently they still thought he couldn’t have good ideas. Ah. So funny. And he could, so jokes on them both. Assholes.

Before they could ask him, Jason kept going. “It’s because of the sc-”

“Scar.”

He nodded at Cass’s intervention, because of course she’d noticed that too. No surprise there. 

“Yes.” He nodded. 

“Which one?” Oh, finally the brat joined in! “Drake’s got many, and I didn’t notice any on him.” 

“The one on his side, the one he got during the year he was away searching for Bruce. It’s still there, still the same, not even smaller. And that’s spooky, honestly.” 

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “That means he’s been somehow transformed into a younger himself and his memories have been wiped...” 

“What do now?” 

Dick shrugged at Cass’s question, but it was Alfred who replied. “We can only wait, Miss Cassandra, and try our best to bring back Master Timothy. With all his memories, hopefully.” 

And well, yeah, they could only do that. 

Jason didn’t like it one bit.


	2. a.k.a. Time Lords base their science on physics don't @me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinks he's living in a dream, and wonders how people can help when his dream is a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back again! I... do not really like this chapter, honestly. I think it could've been much better, but this is what my brain could muster and both you and I have to live with it, sorry. Also! Slight angst in the end, but don't worry :)
> 
> Also, I'll keep telling you all this: I do not know when the next update will be. Not regularly, that's for sure, so please be patient with me :)
> 
> Nieri

Tim didn’t know what had happened, he’d just woken up naked in a pile of clothing, surrounded by people he didn’t know,  _ and wait just a sec, was that really Batman or was he dreaming? _

When the blue vigilante had crouched in front of him and then picked him up, Tim decided that no, that was probably a very realistic nightmare, because it was all  _ wrong _ . Batman didn’t have so many helpers; Batman had Robin, but Robin was nowhere to be seen, and the one that looked kinda like Robin had the suit all wrong. And everything was just  _ wrong, so wrong, all wrong _ . 

Apparently, though, his brain had gotten the right identity for batman, since they landed at Wayne Manor… Tim inwardly smiled.  _ High five, brain! You can do at least one thing right! _

At the Manor they had given him some clothes, probably Wrong Robin’s, which was much bigger than he was, so they were kind of just looking like an oversized dress on him, and that was not cool, not at all. After that Tim had climbed on a chair in the kitchen, and Mr. Pennyworth -  _ yes, good brain. Keep things kinda right. _ \- had given him some warm soup, which Tim was really thankful for, even if it was just a dream, which he was sure of, since Mr. Pennyworth looked older since he’d seen him last. 

He had pointedly ignored the blue vigilante when he had, maskless, asked him about his age, but then couldn’t help himself when he said he was Dick Grayson and he had done the number for him at the circus. 

“You’re too old.” Tim furrowed his brows musingly, and really, his brain should step up its game, “You should be thirteen going on fourteen, but you’re  _ way _ older...” 

He almost sighed at the flabbergasted stares he received, and continued, “And that means that I’m either dreaming a very realistic dream or I traveled through time like in that book of H. G. Wells I read last month. Or like the Doctor.” Tim liked Doctor Who  _ a whole lot _ . It might’ve been his last nanny’s influence, since they sat every afternoon and watched the day’s episode, but then Tim really enjoyed the Doctor’s adventures. Once he’d dreamed about finding an old blue police box and running away gallivanting through the galaxy and the different time periods, but Mum had eradicated that childish dream soon enough. “But I don’t remember any blue police boxes anywhere, and that’s all fiction anyway. Though time travel might be possible; like, using Einstein’s field equations of general relativity, time travel is theoretically possible through wormholes…” Tim also liked physics a lot. Or well, he liked learning, because the things he learned at school were boring and he needed to keep his mind occupied. Physics had been the first thing he’d attacked, still because of Doctor Who. Time travel was a  _ very _ fascinating subject, after all… “You know, since EFEs describe the curvature of spacetime and the matter within it, and their solutions are the metrics of spacetime, which include the movement of objects within it an-”

One thing Tim didn’t like  _ at all _ was being interrupted like the guy with the red monstrosity just did, and he certainly didn’t like to be told he looked like a baby. 

“I’m eight, thank you very much!”

It didn’t work, and the now monstrosity-less guy, had also poked him in the shoulder.  _ Ugh, brain what are you doing? _

After that and an awkward moment after Tim asked about his parents - which really shouldn’t be so abnormal, since they were away from home for good part of the year - Dick brought him to a bedroom, probably a guest bedroom, and then told him to wait there a moment while he went scavenging for pjs. And Tim waited, because after all even if this was a dream he was still a good boy, and knew his manners. And while he waited, Tim thought. Was time travel possible in dreams? Since it was a dream it sure was, and he also wanted to meet Future Him, since in dreams you could do things like that.  _ Wonder how I look when I’m a grown-up… _

“Hey Dick,” he started when the man came back with a pair of blue pajamas for him, “do you think I’ll be stuck here forever?” 

Dick had seemingly decided to ignore his question, and had sat next to him on the bed, handing him the pjs. Tim silently took them, but didn't move to put them on. And then Dick spoke.

“Of course not, Timmy...” Tim wasn’t looking at the man, but he could feel the faint smile in his voice, “We’ll do our best to make things right and send you back to your time, I promise.” 

And with that Dick stood and went to the others. Make things right, had he said? Make things right? How? It was a dream, Dick couldn’t make things right in Tim’s dream because it was  _ Tim’s _ . It was normal, dreams were usually weird, often weirder than this. Tim changed into the blue pajamas and snuggled under the blanket. 

Later in the night, after he had heard everyone going into their rooms, Tim snuck out of his bed. He’d noticed a room earlier, a room that felt eerily familiar, and he wanted to investigate it. Silently he tip-toed along the corridor and quietly opened the door of the room, then, once inside, left it ajar. When he finally turned, his breath got stuck in his lungs, because  _ no way this is Future Me’s room, you’re awesome brain! _

It had been obvious, because Tim had seen some of his most recent photos on the wall, next to the poster of a photography event he’s been wanting to go to for years, and on the desk, next to a computer, there was his camera. The exact same model, and next to it there were a bunch of photos of people he’d never seen. Curiously he took them and went to sit on the bed, passing through each and observing them carefully. In one there were a group of people, teenagers, and they were all smiling, and in the middle, there was him. Future Him, smiling so wide it must’ve hurt. Tim didn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much. Maybe when Mum and Dad had given him the camera to make up for his birthday when he was six? Maybe? Maybe. He didn’t remember… But he looked good in the photo and Tim wondered if his brain really did imagine him like this in the future. He’d never been able to see himself as an adult, it was all hazy and nebulous, but here the photos were proof. Maybe he wasn’t dreaming after all, and maybe he’d really travelled through time. Who knows? He went on with the photos until a phone caught his attention, and maybe that was his Future Self’s phone. 

Tim smiled, because now he could try and call Mum and Dad, in Jordan it should be about 11am, if he remembered well. He could call and see how they were, couldn’t he? Of course he knew he couldn’t tell them it was him, but maybe he could just lie and say he was being babysat and was curious about Timmy’s Mama and Papa? Yes, yes that would work. 

Mum’s phone was disconnected, and Dad’s too. Tim frowned: maybe they had turned them off for the moment? He shrugged, then decided, since there was a computer right in front of him, to see if he could find out more info about their dig in Jordan, because sure there were bank movements, and Tim had been able to track does down with enough ability not to be discovered for at least ten months now. Quietly humming to himself, he set to work, but frowned once more when he found out there hadn’t been bank movements in  _ years _ . Weird.  _ Brain, what are you up to? Why are you making it this hard to contact them? _

Without even thinking about it, he put 'Jack and Janet Drake' in the Google research bar and waited the few seconds it took the system to skim across the internet results. Tim stopped breathing altogether. In front of him, the first headline link glowed dimly, an ill-phrased omen punching him in the face. He shook his head. No.  _ No _ . It couldn’t be. It couldn’t-  _ They weren’t dead. They weren’t. _ There was no way they had left him for good.  _ No. Way. _ But then… 

In the quiet room, face illuminated by the dim azure glow of the computer screen, Tim felt tears roll down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :) 
> 
> Also, just a reminder: I have no idea when the next chapter will be posted. Certainly not tomorrow, but I don't think it'll be ready for next Saturday :( The fact I do not have a plan cripples the updates, sorry :(


	3. a. k. a. Can things get any worse? Apparently the answer is "Fucking always"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce just loves hide and seek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aand chapter 3 is out. Weirdly on time? Who's this? Who's possessing me? Making me update regularly? How? When? That's not me! 
> 
> But anyway, enjoy the chapter. I did enough :) 
> 
> Nieri :)

Bruce had a headache. Bruce had a very,  _ very _ bad headache, and not a single one of his sons was helping with it. Not that he could really fault Tim, since it wasn’t really the fault of an eight-year-old, but it was because of Tim’s condition that the others were being unbearable. As soon as Dick had tucked Tim into bed, and after the hushed discussion with the others, Bruce had called Zatanna, who,  _ of course _ , was off-planet for the next few days, then tried with the Flash who was,  _ of course _ , somewhere in the Time Stream following one of his rogues and causing chaos in the meantime. Not even Raven had been available, being away on a mission with the Titans. Then Jason had suggested calling John Constantine. His headache had suddenly worsened. 

Next morning Bruce had been down earlier than usual. The kitchen was empty, the kids being asleep and Alfred having gone to the city to buy some more fitting clothes for Tim, and so Bruce wasn’t really expecting anyone to come in at six in the morning, yet there it was, small Tim peeking from the door, unsure if entering the room or not. When the kid finally noticed him, Bruce smiled and made a ‘c’mere’ gesture. Tim came in. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked him. 

Tim nodded, eyeing the pot of coffee Bruce had in front of him. “Wonderfully.”

Oh, so Tim had been drinking coffee since he was that young? Not that Bruce was going to allow him to drink that while he was a kid. Honestly, he knew how to be a parent. 

“You look tired, though.” He replied, taking a sip of his own mug and dragging the pot closer. “Are you sure you did have a good sleep? We can move you to a different room, if necessary, or change the bed...”

And indeed Tim didn’t look like he was well rested: he was paler than the night before, eyes wide, dark circles forming under them. A carefully constructed  _ mask _ on his blank face. Eight year old Tim wasn’t good at faking like his older counterpart, because Bruce could see this and much more.

“I’m okay, thank you. May I have some coffee please?” Tim shrugged.

Bruce sighed, “You’re eight, I can’t give you coffee. It’ll stunt your growth, you know...” 

Tim had shrugged once more. “It’s useful. I still don’t like it much, but it’s really good if I want to stay up at night to work, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to tell me no. So, may I?” 

“No.”

Tim huffed, and looked around, probably searching for something. “Then may I know where the cereals are, please?” 

Bruce looked at the kid before standing, then went to the “Sit down, I’ll take everything for you. Do you have a preferred kind of cereals?” 

The man took all the necessary items and put them before Tim, who had sat next to him and was extending his arm to reach for the coffee pot. Bruce snatched it before Tim could grab it. Tim pouted, and it was,  _ by far _ , the most adorable thing he had ever seen. He needed proof. He needed proof of how much of an adorable kid Tim was. Photographic proof, video proof.  _ Everything _ . Bruce. Needed. Everything.

Later, after Alfred had come back and Tim was finally wearing fitting clothes, Bruce had gone to the Cave to see if there was something else he could do, leaving the boys to play games in the living room. The worst mistake in his life. Hide and seek was war, in this family. Anyone who played hide and seek had no mercy for the people they were competing against. Bruce shouldn’t have left them. And his second worst mistake? Going back to the manor and holing up in his study, leaving the Cave unattended. That, that he shouldn’t have done, especially with a young Tim roaming the house. 

It hadn’t been bad, at the beginning, he had left the door open and he could hear them playing, outraged cries when someone was found and the victorious giggles of Tim, who was, apparently, the reigning champion. More than once he had seen one or two of the boys passing in the hallway and once or twice they’d also hidden in the study, behind him, behind the couch, under the desk, everywhere. 

And then around the sixth round or so, they hadn’t been able to find Tim. Bruce had been gone for exactly three minutes, and while in the kitchen he hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t seen anything that warranted being worried. Exactly ten minutes after he’d sat back on his chair, Dick, Jason and Damian had burst through the door looking panicked. 

Bruce, sighed. “You lost him, didn’t you?”

“Maybe?” Dick.

“We’ve searched the house thoroughly, father, yet we still haven’t found Drake. He is in an unfamiliar building, so one would suppose he didn’t wander far to search for a suitable hideout, but we went even to the farthest wing, to the attic and yet Drake seems to have disappeared.” Damian. He could count on Damian giving valid and succinct explanation, at least. 

Why did Cass have to go to her safehouse after they'd ended the conversation?  _ Why? _ He needed help. He needed so much help.

“We checked fucking everywhere, he’s not here!” Jason enforcing the point. 

Bruce sighed again, a hand moving to massage the base of his nose, eyes closed. “Have you really checked everywhere?”

“Of course we have, father!”

“Well,” Dick intervened, staring at something behind Bruce’s back. “not really everywhere...” 

Bruce turned to follow his oldest’s eyes, and his gaze stopped on the clock. The Cave. They hadn’t checked the Cave. 

“You can’t be suggesting young Drake found out the entrance of the Cave! Didn’t you blindfold him before bringing him to the manor?”

“I did!”  


“Well, Goldie, somehow Lil’ Replacement got down there, and it’s definitely neither mine nor the brat’s fault.” 

“Well it isn’t  _ mine _ eithe-”

“Please just shut up!” The headache he had had that night was coming back stronger. Children. His two eldest were children. “Let’s just go to the Cave and sort this out.”

And they did all go, Bruce on the front and the others behind him following him like ducklings. 

Tim was indeed in the Cave, sitting in front of the Batcomputer, perched on the chair, legs pressed to his chest, eyes glued to the screen and fingers flying on the keyboard. Bruce narrowed his eyes as he took in what Tim was reading on the main screen and researching on the smaller screens. Tim had his notes opened in front of him.  _ Tim had Bruce’s notes on his shrinking/switch with his younger self/whatever it was that had happened to him, opened in front of him.  _ Well, shit. And it seemed he hadn’t noticed them yet. They moved towards him in silence.

“So this is not a dream, is it?” Tim’s shrill voice rang through the cave and made them stop in their tracks. A dream? Tim had believed this all to be a dream? 

“It’s not, chum, I’m sorry.” Bruce reached him in a few large strides, knelt in front of him and hugged him. 

Tim didn’t hug him back, he stiffened instead, then relaxed slightly. “I know you lied. About my parents. And if that’s true that means they’re really dead.” 

Bruce heard resignation in his voice, but before he could say something, the child continued.

“And I’m not upset he lied and you helped him, because I know it was for a good reason, but if you didn’t want me to find out you should’ve taken Future Me’s phone and computer.”

“Sure we should have, Timbo!” Jason ruffled the kid’s hair, “But I’m sure you would've found somehow, am I right in my assumption?”

“How did you find the entrance to the Cave? And why aren’t you more surprised about this place, Drake?” 

Tim awkwardly dislodged himself from Bruce’s hold and turned towards Damian. He shrugged. Bruce’s left eyebrow arched. 

“Well...” the kid’s whole demeanor was guarded, and Bruce didn’t really fault him for that. “I already knew about Mr. Wayne and Richard being Batman and Robin, and about how I found out the entrance uhm… Well, the clock was marking the wrong time so I wanted to put it, you uhm… you know, right... It’s also weird it was marking the wrong time because it looks pretty well-kept and so maybe...  _ maybe there was something with it _ .” He sounded hopeful. Bruce smiled: it wasn’t really a surprise that Tim craved adventure as a child, but it was endearing to see him do so. “And anyway, I checked the alarm on Mr. Wayne’s desk for the right time and I thought it was weird he had two clocks, you know... Then I moved the clock hands to mark it right and then the clock, you know… uhm… it moved. Are you mad? Because I know I wasn’t supposed to even know this place existed and I’m sorry I know you’re Batman Mr. Wayne, but I promise I didn’t tell and won’t tell.”

After that, and “Don’t worry, Tim, we’re not mad. We understand, it’s okay.”, Dick decided that an impromptu trip to the city for ice-cream “To lift your spirit, Timmy! There’s an awesome place near the new theatre!” 

And really, they should've known Tim wasn’t really going to stay pu the moment they turned their eyes away,  _ yet _ , yet they did. And, once more that day, Tim had completely disappeared. 

“ Fuck .”

  
Bruce was  _ so done _ with his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> I'm not sure the next chapter will be ready for next Saturday, but eh. Life's a bitch and I have incoming exams in like two weeks and am procrastinating instead of studying. Yes. This is my procrastinating. Pls help I don't know how to stop.


	4. a. k. a. Trios of girls usually mean fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets the girls. They're fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence, I've learned that I can't write Tim chapters in this story without adding some angst, but in my defence, I'm also participating to the Maribat Flower Fluff June, and those are mostly Timari so there's Tim and Mari fluff :D
> 
> (If you're ever gonna read those, anyway so like. That's up to you)
> 
> Nieri

Tim hadn’t expected to find the Cave. He really hadn’t. He hadn’t meant to either. Yet he had. And he’d read the notes Mr. Wayne had on his strange situation. 

It wasn’t a dream. This whole mess of a situation wasn’t. A dream. That meant he was stuck in the future. But he also had Future Him’s scars? How was that even possible? Tim had checked, he’d tugged his shirt up and looked. Indeed there was a scar, nasty looking but nicely healed. It was so big. _Wonder how I got it. Must’ve been really painful..._ He’d touched it too, but it wasn’t painful now, just itchy under his touch. And after the little detour about the scar, he’d gone back to the rest of the notes. And reality.

Tim had parents. Tim was an orphan. They were on a dig in Egypt. They were six feet under. Tim was eight. Tim was seventeen. Tim didn’t know how to feel. He settled for ignoring the ball of _something_ in his stomach and the lump in his throat. Yes, that would do nicely. He didn’t want to bother Mr. Wayne and the others more than he was already.

Tim hadn’t expected that they expected him to know. Or at least he thought they did. 

_“But I’m sure you would've found somehow, am I right in my assumption?”_

He hoped they did. Because there was no way they didn’t already know he knew. They _must’ve_ known he knew. Even if Jason hadn’t said that in regard to him knowing Batman and Robin’s identities. They must have known. They just couldn’t _not_ have known. They knew Future Him, and they apparently also worked with him

And then they had surprised him. With an impromptu ice cream trip. Tim didn’t think he had done something that could’ve led them to think he was allowed to have ice cream. He _had_ snuck in the Cave uninvited, he _had_ looked through Mr. Wayn- Batman’s files, he _had_ omitted he knew Batman and Robin’s identities, _and_ he _might have_ gotten a look at the other files in the computer. Might. Out of sight, out of mind, right? _Right_. 

Point was they were taking him out for ice cream, and that elated him because Mum and Dad had never taken him out for ice cream. _Not until now, at least. Maybe when I’m back? Maybe. If they’re home long enough. I can ask Mr. Wayne to tell me how to convince them! Yes! No. No it’s stupid_. 

And it was stupid, because Mr. Wayne had more important things to do, things that were Tim’s fault - and how could it not be his fault when he was stuck like this and instead should be seventeen? - and he really should be concentrating on other things, important cases. Wasn’t there a file on the Penguin? He really should go after the Penguin. Tim could wait, because in the end that was all he did, after all. Waiting for his parents to come home, waiting for his mother to smile at him, waiting for his father to tell him he was proud of Tim, waiting, waiting, waiting. Tim just waited, and he was okay with that. 

They’d gone to the ice cream parlour, but Tim hadn’t had enough courage to ask Mr. Wayne, so he’d stayed quiet all the way to the city, and there he’d kept quiet too, dutifully holding Dick’s hand like he’d been told. Even if he really didn’t need to, because he’d been going out and snatching photos of Batman and Robin for the good part of the last two months, so he was fairly confident in his ability of surviving in the city. After he’d gotten his cone, - _wow, is this here in my time? I’m totally stopping here next time I go out! Wait... is it open at night?_ \- he gave a quick look at the others, they were still choosing the ice cream flavour they wanted, most of them anyway, Tim decided to wait for them outside, because it was a surprisingly nice day in Gotham and he wanted to feel the wind on his skin. He wished he’d brought his camera with him, because there were definitely some good shots he could see.

Licking his cone, Tim walked slowly towards the spots he’d eyed from the ice cream shop, thoughts of warning the others slipping his mind. _They won’t notice_ , he nodded to himself. He could go and be back before they even knew he’d been gone. With that thought, Tim picked up his pace. He wanted to see how Gotham had changed, even if only for a little while.

He’d been walking for about ten minutes when someone put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around laughing.

“Timmy!” The girl said, because it was a girl. 

Tim frowned, “Do I know you, Miss?”

“Aww Timmy, so you really don’t know us!” 

“I know her.” Tim was looking behind the girl, at a pair moving towards the two of them. “And her.” 

The girl turned, and at the sight smiled. “Cass, Babs! Look who I found! It’s itty-bitty Timmy!” 

“We see, Steph.” Barbara Gordon told the girl who’d stopped him, “Hey Tim, what are you doing out here alone? Weren’t you with the Waynes?”

He stared at her thoughtfully, then nodded, eyes moving towards his feet. He could feel his ice cream slowly melt, but he didn’t dare eat it right away, not under the stare of the three girls. The one from yesterday, _Black Bat, her name’s Black Bat in Mr. Way- Batman’s files_ , spoke.

“No watching. Not comfortable.” Tim moved his eyes that much useful to watch her without being detected, and when she noticed, she knocked her fist on her chest twice. “Cass.”

Tim nodded, then stared at her openly, because he was curious. “Are you part of the Waynes?”

Cass nodded. “You too. Brother. My brother.”

_Oh._

Tim turned towards Steph. “Are you my sister too? And is Miss Gordon?”

Tim knew better than to ask about why she was in a wheelchair. He could look into it later, in the safety of his new room, without having Miss Barbara reviving the experience.

“Nope! I’m Stephanie, by the way, I’m a family friend!” 

“And my father’s still alive, Tim. No need for me to be adopted.” Miss Gordon smiled at him, and Tim smiled back. 

“What do you say if we bring you back to them? They’ll be worried, won’t they?”

“Uh?” Tim frowned once more. “They won’t notice? I mean, they were busy, so it’s unlikely they’ve seen I’m not there.”

“They care. No right, but they care. You brother, son. They care.” Cass had extended her hand to him, and Tim reflexively grabbed it, “Go back to family. We go with you.” 

He nodded. Then Steph snatched his ice cream from his hand.

“Hey!” he protested, “That’s mine! Give it back!” 

“Only if you catch me, Timmy!” Steph was running before he had even the time to blink. Tim let go of Cass’s hand and started chasing Steph. He didn’t see Barbara sighing and whipping out her phone. 

“Follow them, please.” She said to Cass, “I’m calling Bruce, I’ll follow you after I tell him he’s okay.”

Tim had an ally in chasing Steph. Cass, who was really, _really_ cool, was helping him. _She’s so fast! Wow!_ And Cass was, she’d caught Steph in exactly 37 seconds and given him his ice cream back. He’d been so happy that he’d offered her a bite, because it was too good an ice cream, and Cass had helped him.

The three of them were sitting on some stairs down the street, when Miss Gordon had joined them again. She’d clapped her hands, when she parked her wheelchair in front of them.

“So,” she told them, “I’ve cleared things with Bruce! You can stay with us ‘till this evening, then you have to go back to the Manor.” 

Tim cringed, “I wouldn’t want to impose... You’ve already been nice enough, I can go back to them no problem...”

“Nonsense, Timmy!” Steph waved her hand, “We’re more than happy to have you around, no bother whatsoever!”

“Steph is right. We okay with you.”

Tim leaned onto Cass, at that, and nodded. “Okay.”

At his okay, the blonde shot up on her feet. “So who wants to go to the mall?”

And to the mall they went. Miss Barbara - _"How many times have I told you that you can call me Babs?"_ -had let him wheelchair her around at the pace he wanted. And he had wanted _fast_. They had lost Steph somehwere around the third floor, and Cass somewhere around the fourth, but Miss Bar- _Babs_ seemed unconcerned, and she needed a hand to pick up some things from the higher shelves. Tim had been happy to do the monkey and climb on the higher ones for her. It was fun. He'd never done something like this with an adult around, and it was _exhilarating_.

By the time Steph and Cass joined them once more, he and Babs were laughing at a guy trying to convince his dog to go into the elevator. The poor animal was refusing to, and had somehow tugged the leash hard enough to yank it out the guy's hands and then went to hide on the other side of the floor. The guy had walked away cursing and literally fuming.

"That dude has no chill!" Steph had commented while handing him a bag. "Also that's for you, as a welcome present, but you can't look at it 'till you've gone home, 'kay?"

"Okay." Tim had tilted his head, curiosity gnawing his stomach, but he knew his manner and was okay with waiting.

Later that evening, in his room, the bag revealed a stuffed bear wearing a Batman t-shirt. There was his name stitched on the inside of the shirt, and note.

_We're happy you're with us, Timmy. And don't worry, we'll always be here for you, you're not alone._

It was signed "Steph, Cass, Barbara", and his heart swelled with an emotion he didn't really recognize, a fluttering lump forming in his stomach. Tim was too old for stuffed toys, but if that night he went to sleep hugging his new toy, no one said anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> I have an exam on Wednesday yay! Someone pls kill me  
> Also since my exams are starting next week, it's possible updates will be kinda... erratic.


	5. a.k.a. Mary Poppins becomes an impromptu therapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is not a babysitter. He is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, once again I'm updating in time? How? Someone tell me how, please, I think I might have a curse on me :/  
> But it's also kinda good tbh... If you're wondering how my exam went, I have literally no idea. We were in like, 200 and something people to take that exam, so results will take a while... In the meantime I can study for the english culture and literature exam I have on the 17th! Even tho there's "culture" in the name, it's basically only literature, so like, easy peasy. Easy peasy also because we literally spoke of only two books, one of which we didn't have the time to do thoroughly (that's Frankenstein, if you're wondering), so the exam will be mainly on Pride and Prejudice, which is one of my alltime favs. They're basically telling me to fangirl about my girl Jane and her works, it's gonna be a slice of cake! I hope. I really hope. 
> 
> But anyway! In the previous chapter Nayan1408 and BisexualNerd asked me for some cuddles, and I told them I didn't know if there would be. But. Some cuddles came out of this nevertheless! I hope you two like it <3 <3 
> 
> Nieri :)

Damian didn’t know what to think of Drake. Or better, he  _ did _ know what to think of Drake - normal, obnoxious, pretender Drake - he just didn’t know what to think of Drake as a child, a child who watched them in a mixture of awe and distrust. All of them but Grayson, and even he only held a fairly small amount of trust. Drake was a strange child, Damian could give him that for sure. Drake was unlike any other child he’d met, himself excluded: he wasn’t used to touch, any kind, nor was he used to people fretting over him - that had been clear during the day when Drake had just straight out disappeared without warning anyone and thought they would be okay with it. Damian had been okay with it. For all that he disliked him, he also thought young Drake ought to already know how to look after himself, he was eight and that was more than old enough for such things. The child didn’t need a nanny 24/7, and Damian was not going to become one. Keyword, being  _ thought _ . 

It was the middle of the night, Damian wasn’t sleeping well because of the humidity in the air, far too much for his tastes, so he’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, trying to tire himself some more to sleep through it without problems. There was someone in the kitchen, on a stool and opening one of the cabinets. Damian blinked twice as the small silhouette of the - thief? Culprit? - child sharply turned towards him. Laying on the counter in front of the stool stood a teddy bear. 

“I’m sorry...” he heard him utter, watching as he closed the cabinet and climbed down the stool. Lastly he grabbed his stuffed toy and held it as if it could protect him from Damian.

Damian tuttered at young Drake’s flabbergasted expression. “Unless you were robbing us, Drake, I don’t see what you should be sorry for.” 

The child cringed at his words, and Damian huffed.  _ Ridiculous _ , this child was ridiculous. “What are you doing awake at this time of the night? I recall perfectly Alfred put you to bed at 10 pm sharp.” 

Young Drake tilted his head ever so slightly and his eyes moved to the tiles of the floor. His voice was barely audible. “I’m... I’m sorry... Did I wake you? I promise it won’t happen again.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, then moved to take a glass from the same cabinet Drake was perusing just a minute earlier and proceeded to serve himself some water. “You still didn’t answer Drake. Why are you awake?” 

He did notice how young Drake froze when he used his name, and he frowned. The child had never reacted before, but Damian had also never used it since the pretender had turned into a kid. 

Drake muttered something so low that Damian didn’t hear a thing. 

“Speak up, Drake. I didn’t understand a word of your muttering nonsense.” 

The child looked up and gulped. Then repeated what he’d said earlier. “I... couldn’t sleep… Had a nightmare...” 

He was close to tears, Damian noticed. What would Grayson do in a moment like this? Better, why couldn’t he just go wake Grayson and let him handle this? But no, he couldn't wake up his brother, or Father, for that matter, for something so trivial. Damian could take care of it perfectly without help whatsoever. Meaning that young Drake should go back to bed and leave him alone. Damian just had to tell him that, watch that he’d do and nothing more. Because Damian was not a nanny and never would be. He  _ refused _ to be one. 

“It’s just a dream. Just go back to bed, Drake. Children need sleep.” 

“But…” Young Drake’s eyes were glossy, but he blinked the tears away. Damian nodded approvingly. 

“But what? Dreams are just that, dreams. You needn’t worry about non-existent things.” 

The child looked away once more, as he blinked faster. “I know,” he whispered, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary and I’ll stop believing it… I know a lot about nightmares, it’s not nice...” 

And at hearing that was Damian’s turn to blink. Finally,  _ finally _ he took a careful look at the child in front of him, taking in the way he held tight on his toy, the way his whole body posture was closed off, screaming ‘I’m scared but I can’t show it’. Young Drake’s eyes were not only glossy, they also seemed  _ haunted _ . Damian had already seen eyes like those, had memories of a small boy sitting in a too big bed, clutching to the blanket and wishing that someone came in from the door to tell him there was nothing in the shadows, nothing that could come in from the window, from under the bed. That door never had opened. Suddenly, Damian moved, startling young Drake. 

“Come with me.” he told him brusquely, turning to go back upstairs. 

He didn’t bother to wait for the child wobbling behind him. 

“Where are we going?” he heard Drake ask softly.

“My room.” 

They both stopped in front of Damian’s room, and Damian stood to the side of the door motioning for the child to go inside. Young Drake, Timothy, did, but stood at the center of it unsure of what to do. Damian followed him inside and closed the door. Alfred the Cat was awake, weirdly, but that could come in handy. He motioned Timothy to the bed while he picked up Alfred and chose a book from his shelf, then joined him on it and placed the animal in the kid’s arms. 

“He likes small rubs behind his ears.” He informed the child staring at him wide eyed. And then, “Make yourself comfortable, Timothy. Have you ever heard of Tolkien?” 

Timothy nodded, “I’ve been wanting to read The Lord of the Rings for a while now, but every time I went to the public library it was already out...” 

Damian rolled his eyes, the child really needed to learn to speak up. “Don’t be afraid to speak at more than a meowling level, people need to hear what you say, if you want them to listen.” 

The boy didn’t reply, he just shrinked more on himself and held Alfred a little bit closer to himself. 

“So?” 

“I...” the child whispered, “I... I can’t...” 

Damian frowned. Sure Drake must have had absent parents, but they must have had enough time for him, right? Must have cared enough for his opinions. Even his mother had enough time for him, had time to listen to him and what he suggested, and she had a branch of the League to lead. 

“Why?” 

“I... they... I must behave...” and if young Timothy’s voice wasn’t the definition of dejected, Damian didn’t know what was, “Must uphold the Drake’s name, be good and proper and don’t disturb anyone and, and-” 

Damian put a hand on his shoulder and the child stopped talking, turning to stare at him with an air of misery. “It’s alright, Timothy. You don’t have to explain anything, I understand.” 

“Then why you don’t like me?” It’s barely a whisper, the child’s voice so low that Damian hardly heard it, “Why do you look at me weirdly?”

Damian was at loss of words. That was not something that he expected Timothy to ask. He didn’t...  _ dislike _ ... Timothy. Young Drake, as of now, seemed to be more attuned with Damian, more in line with his own way of thinking, more independent from the family too, and that was something he had mulled over quite some time. Damian didn’t dislike Timothy, he just wasn’t... comfortable in his presence. The child was almost a reminder, a reminder of a life he could have had, had he been with his father much sooner. Timothy was a memo of his lost childhood, and Damian couldn’t bear to even look at him for more than ten minutes. 

But after Timothy’s words, he wasn’t really sure his assessment of the situation was correct. The child reminded him too much of himself, and Damian did know, contrary to popular belief, that his own childhood had been traded for pain, and hurt, and a lifetime of thinking he had to be perfect and victorious to receive even a small amount of love. If Timothy’s childhood had looked even slightly closely like his own, then Damian had a lot of rethinking to do about normal, teenage Drake. 

“Pay attention, Timothy. I’m going to repeat this once and only once. Clear?” 

Timothy nodded.

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose while he gathered his thoughts, then turned towards the child, placed his hands on both of his shoulders and spoke. “I don’t dislike you, Tim, and I certainly do not hate you.” he added when he saw the look in the kid’s eyes. “I do have a history of constant fights with your older counterpart, but after this impromptu heart-to-heart, I’m inclined towards ceasing every antagonistic behaviour I’ve ever shown against him. You and I are more similar than I thought, and I have a feeling we might find more common ground and a basis for civility between the two of us. Understood, Timothy?” 

Timothy nodded once more, absentmindedly petting Alfred the Cat, still comfortably laying in the child’s arms. Damian nodded too, then finally picked up the book. 

“Are you in a comfortable position?” he asked. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Good. So you told me you’ve never read The Lords of the Rings, right?” 

Timothy shook his head, and Damian sighed. “That’s alright, Timothy. Did you know the Lord of the Rings trilogy is the second installment of a more broad series? It is preceded by “The Hobbit”, which narrates the adventures of Bilbo Baggins, Frodo’s uncle.” 

“No, I didn’t know that! Do we have to read that first?”

“It is not necessary, but I suggest you do, after we finish this one.” 

“Oh, okay.” More than seeing, Damian felt Timothy snuggle against him, unnamed teddy bear poking his side and Alfred’s soft, low purr in his ears. Damian heaved a breath, then passed an arm around Timothy’s shoulders to keep him closer.  _ God _ , Grayson was rubbing off on him. 

“Are you ready? I’m starting to read, now.” 

A low hum of confirmation was all Damian needed to start reading. 

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyfirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement...” 

Damian kept reading for the good part of an hour, before he noticed his young guest was fast asleep, cuddling against his chest. Timothy’s face was serene, index of a sleep without nightmares, and he was clutching Damian’s pajamas shirt. Alfred was also asleep on Timothy. 

The boy sighed, before set the book down on the nightstand. Quietly he turned to stare a second at the child sleeping almost literally on him, before sighing once more and turning off the lamp. He couldn’t move the child to his own room, else he might wake Alfred and he didn’t want this. He had  _ standards _ for his beloved animals.

As sleep overtook him too, Damian found himself thinking that the situation maybe wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :) 
> 
> THE NEXT DAY:
> 
> *flash sounds*  
> Damian: *blinks and wakes up abrutply* "turns to stare at the door"  
> Dick: Say cheese, Little D!  
> Jason, chuckling: This is gonna be blackmail material! So good!  
> Bruce: *choking up on tears because his two youngest aren't trying to kill each other for once*  
> Alfred: Master Damian, I'm here to merely inform you that breakfast is ready, and the photos Master Richard is taking will go in the family album  
> Tim: *cuddles Damian more*


	6. a. k. a. Trios of girls usually mean girl nights out inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a cat, a plant and a thespian character take over the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S IN TIME YAY!!! I apologize for the tardiness, because usually I update in the afternoon and now it's 10pm sharp... 
> 
> I have a confession to make. My Muse is prolly broken, because she _only_ functions the day I decide to update, meaning that for the past week I only wrote 200 miserable words, and now, in the span of three hours I find myself with 2700 words more. Basically I write each chapter right before updating, and that's why the chapters aren't edited. :// SOrry for the inconvenience :(
> 
> Nieri :)
> 
> P.s. CANON IS AN OPINION PLS DON'T YELL AT ME FOR THE CHARACTERIZATION

After that night, Damian had started to be nice to him, Tim had noticed. He still talked brusquely to him, but the tone hid some sort of affection. He could hear it. It was the same tone Mrs. Mac used when she talked to him, some mixture of annoyance and partiality. Tim was pretty sure she liked him, to an extent, but she did not love him. And he had noticed that Mrs. Mac’s and Damian’s tone was very unlike what his parents, Mum in particular, used. He’d tried to hear it, focus more on the tone, the inflection they gave words, than the words themselves, but he never heard it. Tim knew for a fact his parents didn’t like him. If they did, they wouldn’t leave him alone so much, wouldn’t be so strict and harsh and look at him with disappointment in their eyes. But he still loved them. 

Anyway, Tim felt...  _ nice _ . And it was  _ weird _ . The Waynes, they were nice to him and didn’t get mad at him when he did something wrong like speaking out of turn or when he got in their way when they were busy. They were nice when they really shouldn’t be, and Tim was ashamed he liked when they didn’t reprimand him. But it wasn’t right, because if Tim was being ill-behaved he had to be castigated. That’s how things should go. That’s not how things were going. Not at all. 

Dick,  _ and _ Jason,  _ and _ Damian,  _ and _ Mr. Wayne  _ and _ Mr. Pennyworth, they were all asking him if he was okay, if he needed something, if he wanted to go to the library, if he wanted to play a game or eat something  _ and they were being nice _ . Tim didn’t understand why. He hadn’t done anything that warranted them being  _ nice _ to  _ him _ . And yet they were. A lump settled in his stomach and his chest constricted at the thought that they were gonna kick him out after tonight. He was going to go out to spy on them and he hadn’t warned anyone.  _ They are so gonna kick me out... But it’s fine, they wouldn’t want me to stay anyway, they’ll grow bored after a while, and I don’t want to be a bother much longer, they have other more important things to do...  _

Tim had known they wouldn’t let him out of the manor at night, to go spy on them during patrol.  _ He had known _ , but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any intention of sneaking out anyways to take some photos.  _ I’ve seen how to go around the alarms, I can go out and be back before they know it! _

And indeed he had seen how to disengage the alarms: when he’d gone to the Cave a few days prior he had given a look -  _ no brain, it was  _ not _ snooping, it was a reconnaissance mission _ \- at the general setup system of the computer and the alarm system placed throughout the house. The computer system was a monster - one Tim knew he was not yet ready to attack, not in months and probably not in  _ years _ \- but the alarm system was easy enough, and in a few days he had been ready to go. 

It was night, and Tim had made sure they believed he was sleeping soundly in the bedroom -  _ my bedroom, now, until I go back to the past. Present. Whatever. _ \- they’d given him. He had resorted to the old, yet always good, trick of using pillows to make it look like he was under the covers and sleeping. He had even used a crumpled black t-shirt, one he had stolen from Jason’s wardrobe, to fake his hair and had put his Batman-themed teddy bear close to where his face would be to make it more credible. 

After he had set up the scene, he had taken his backpack, where he’d previously stuffed a bottle of water and a sweater in, this one stolen from Dick, and, camera safely around his neck, he had gone, as quietly as possible so as not to alert Mr. Pennyworth, to the unused west wing. During his explorative trips throughout the manor grounds, Tim had found a room where the cameras and general alarms worked only when they wanted to, which, in three days he’d come to control it, had been exactly ten minutes per hour or so. He had been surprised to see no one had repaired it yet, but had been euphoric at that because that meant he had a sure way to come and go as he pleased.

He had felt guilty about sneaking out to go spy them, because Mr. Wayne and his family had been so nice to him and took care of him and he repaid them by stealing and breaking their trust by sneaking out. Tim was a bad person.  _ But I want to see how they’re doing now, how it changed with the new additions to the team! _ And now he was out and heading to the city. At night. Alone. But he had already done it multiple times, he could still do it!

Remorse gnawing at his stomach, Tim disabled the alarms and climbed down the window. It would take a while to get to the city, better get started.

  
  


He had been following Nightwing and Robin for a while now, when a voice called him.

“Sweetcheeks? Is that really you? Caray!” 

Tim turned to voice, slowly, but without fear, because there was only one person in the whole world who called him ‘sweetcheeks’ and meant it. He waved slightly, right hand still gripping his camera. “Hi Miss Kyle.”

Miss Kyle -  _ Catwoman, she’s in the suit! Names, Tim! You don’t want people to know it’s her!  _ \- was frowning at him, hands on her hips and an eyebrow arched very high. 

“Shouldn’t you be around seventeen, Sweetcheeks? Care to explain why you look six?” 

“I’m eight! Why does everyone think I’m six?! I don’t look six, I look eight!”

Miss Kyle brought her hands in front of her. “Sure, sure cariño... Now do tell why you’re  _ eight _ and not the age you should be.” 

Tim’s eyes immediately went to the ground as he shifted uncomfortably, “Uhm... I... uh... became eight? Don’t know how... Not even Mr. Wa- Batman does know... so uhm... we don’t know if it’s reversible or not?” 

Miss Kyle sighed, and Tim cringed. There, he was being a nuisance yet again.  _ Awesome _ . But Tim knew it was bound to happen, sooner or later, it just had happened while he was talking with Miss Kyle. He always did something wrong. Always. And now Miss Kyle would leave him alone too. His breathing suddenly picked up its pace and he could feel the tremors shaking him.

“Cállate niño, I’m not gonna eat you for something it’s obviously not your fault. Here, look at me.” She had come closer and crouched at Tim’s height. Her hands were on his shoulders. “Tim, Sweetcheeks, breathe, you’re having a panic attack.”  _ Oh? Am I having a panic attack? _ Tim didn’t know. “Breathe in.” Miss Kyle inhaled, and he tried to copy her, “Breathe out.” Tim exhaled with her. 

“Good.” he heard her say. It sounded like she was miles away. “You’re doing very well, Timmy. Can you do it once more for me?” And Tim did, because he still had manners and she was helping him and being nice. “Awesome. Now can you tell me five things you can see?” 

Tim nodded. “Uh... uh... That- that no smoking s-sign. Your eyes. My... my camera.” He was calming down, so what Miss Kyle was doing was probably working. Tim took a small, quivering breath. “The sky. My shoes.”

Miss Kyle smiled at him, then asked, “Now can you tell me five things you can smell?” 

Tim shook his head. “It’s okay, Miss K- Catwoman. I’m fine now. Thank you.”

She had nodded, eyes still staring right through him. Searching for what he did not know. After a few seconds she looked away, standing up in one single flowing motion. 

“I’m going to call Bats.” She said, and Tim paled. Mr Wayne was so going to send him away now, if he wasn’t going to already... He nodded dejectedly, head dipping low and eyes becoming glassy.  _ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry _ . He felt a tear rolling down his right cheek and sighed.

“Hey Bruce, I’ve found someone who should  _ definitely _ not be in Gotham at this time of the night.”

“No, that’s not- Yup, that’s him.” Tim watched as Miss Kyle paced around in circles. And then it hit him. Had she really said ‘Bruce’?  _ Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod she knows the secret identities! She knows them! _

“No, you’re n- Listen, no-”

“Oh shut up, I’m kidnapping him. Tonight he’s staying with me and  _ it’s final _ !”

Wait what?

Miss Kyle turned towards him, fire in her eyes and her mouth a thin line that screamed ‘determination’. She took his hand. “You’re coming home with me, Sweetcheeks. Tonight’s gonna be you, me and movies, and to hell with what Bruce was hoping!”

She had brought him to her apartment. At first Tim had thought they were alone apart from the cats, - she  _ had _ said “you, me and movies”, after all -but then two other people had appeared from a room at the end of a hallway and Tim had stiffened. Because those were Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy and they were bad people and he needed to tell Batman and- Miss Kyle put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Are you okay? You don’t need to worry, Sweetcheeks. Those two are good, they’re with me. And I promise I’ll explain later, vale?”

He had nodded stiffly. When Miss Quinn and Miss Ivy had seen him, the former had squealed, literally, and had bounced up and down, all the while holding Miss Ivy’s sleeve. 

“He’s adorable! Red! Look! Cat’s brought home a baby!” 

“I’m not a baby!” Tim slapped his hands on his mouth.  _ Oh my God, why can’t you just shut up?! _

Miss Quinn had stopped squealing and bouncing, opting to walk closer and poke him in the shoulder.  _ Ugh _ , another one who liked doing that. “But you are, kiddo. You’re  _ small _ .” and then, at Miss Kyle, “Where did you find him, Cat?”

Miss Kyle had made a gesture towards the living room, then, hands still on his shoulder, had guided him towards the sofa. She ignored Miss Quinn’s question altogether.

“Sit down, cariño. I’m going to the kitchen to prepare some hot chocolate and some snacks.” 

No, no, no!

“You... uhm... you don’t have to, I’m okay, thank you. It’s already enough that you brought me here Miss Kyle...”

“Chitón, Sweetcheeks! Listen to the adult speaking, now.”

Tim clamped his mouth shut. He was listening. 

“You, Timmy, are a guest here, a guest who, I might add, is completely new to this whole situation. You don’t need to worry your pretty head over that because that’s the adults’ job, vale?”

He tilted his head and nodded. Even if it didn’t really make sense, because Tim could take care of himself and adults usually ignored him the majority of the time.

“Good, then it’s obvious I’m gonna look after you as best as I can, because I’m the adult and you’re the kid and it’s my job. That’s clear, right? And, last but not least, you are not bothering me or stealing precious time. You are here because I want you to, and I want you to be here because I care about you. Okay?” 

Tim swallowed the ‘why’ he wanted to say.

Less than an hour later, Tim found himself sitting on the floor next to Miss Kyle, stuffing popcorns in his mouth and chatting away with other two very dangerous women.

“Waitwaitwait! Are you telling me that this itty bitty baby found out who Brucie and his flock of birds were at  _ eight _ and then at twelve  _ bullied _ Batman into taking him on as Robin? Red! Did you hear that too?!  _ At eight! _ ” 

It was a relief that Miss Kyle had confirmed what he had found in Mr. Way- Batman’s files over him.  _ Wonder what had happened to make me go to Mr. Wayne to become Robin, that wasn’t in the files... _

“I  _ did _ , no need to scream in my ears.” 

Tim nodded at the same time Miss Kyle -  _ “Call me Selina, Sweetcheeks, we’re between friends” _ \- said, “Yes, exactly. Timmy here has a pretty big brain, don’t you cariño?” 

He felt his cheeks burn, and he was sure it was showing too, in embarrassment as he nodded once more. “Uhm... Yes? I think so? My uh... my teachers all say I can be moved up at least two grades, but uhm… Mum and Dad still haven’t found the time to finalize the thing…” 

Miss Quinn, draped over the armchair in front of him, whistled, clearly impressed. About what he didn’t know. She was very intelligent too, she shouldn’t be impressed, it was  _ common _ . “ _ Damn _ , kiddo!” 

“Uhm... Thanks?” And then, “So, uhm... Sorry if I’m being rude but uhm... Are you two like, uhm... working together and being not-bad?” 

“We totally are, Little Birdie!”

“It’s the three of us.” Miss Ivy spoke, “We’re working together. Cat, Harls and me. We’ve been called the Sirens, these past few years, and I do find the name flattering, if you’re wondering.”

“Oh, that’s cool! The name is awesome!” 

“Thanks, I guess.” 

“Oh come on, Red! A little spirit in there, nah?” 

Miss Ivy sighed, a hand going to massage the base of her nose. Miss Quinn really did seem to aggravate her... Tim didn’t think she was going to do as Miss Quinn had said, but then Miss Ivy spoke. She was looking at him, and she was smiling too? That was  _ weird _ . “Thank you, kid. I appreciate it.” 

_ Weird _ .

Selina clapped her hands, and draped an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “Who’s up for a movie? I did promise Sweetcheeks here we’d watch some!”

“Oh! Me! But don’t let Red choose!” Miss Quinn lowered her voice and moved so she was whispering right in his ear, “She’s got a  _ terrible _ taste for movies. If she chooses it’s gonna be boooring!” 

Tim couldn’t help the smile appearing on his lips when he saw Miss Ivy rolling her eyes and poke Miss Quinn on her side. “I do  _ not _ , take that back!” 

“Nope! Not a chance!” 

Tim chuckled quietly watching at the two bickering. At least he did until he saw Selina smiling at him and his reaction. He quickly shoved a new handful of popcorns in his mouth and turned away from her. 

“I vote for the kid to choose!” He heard at one point and  _ no way I’m choosing! What if they don’t like the movie I choose? What if they’re going to send me away like Mr. Wayne? Please no, no, no, no! _

Then he registered how the room had fallen silent, and realized they were all staring at him. 

“Cariño, is everything okay? You looked like you were gonna have another panic attack.” He nodded at Selina, and barely registered the “ _ Another?! _ ” someone shouted.

“I’m fine, thank you...” 

“Kiddo, you were panicking on us, that’s not  _ fine _ .” 

“I said I’m  _ fine _ !” he snarled. Miss Quinn, who had moved next to him once again, recoiled slightly. “I’m fine...” 

Selina pulled him into a hug, and he let her. After this they were definitely sending him back. But Tim refused to cry over it, so instead he spoke, voice low and teary, “I’ll go take my camera and backpack. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” Tim turned towards Miss Ivy. She pointedly staring at him, and it made him want to just disappear because her gaze was  _ heavy _ . “Why?” she repeated. 

And Tim shivered. How could he answer that? What was the right answer? 

“I’m- you-” he stammered. Why were words failing him?  _ Why _ ? 

“Yes?” 

“I’m- I yelled... And now you’re going to send me away. It’s always like this...” The words seemingly drained him of any energy he had left, because suddenly Tim’s body felt heavy and uncomfortable and he just wanted to  _ sleep _ .

“Oh, cariño, no!” Selina was hugging him tighter, combing his hair in soothing motions, and despite himself, Tim felt himself relaxing against her. 

Harely was still observing him in silence, but Tim did not care at the moment. And Selina was so comfy and he felt so tired. Tim closed his eyes, for a second, the three women gently whispering between them. 

He did perk up when suddenly Selina picked him up in her arms and started walking. 

“Uh?” he managed to utter, “Where are we going?”

“ _ You _ ,” she told him, “are going straight under a blanket and sleep. Though since you’re still awake, you’re gonna brush your teeth first. Me, on the other hand, am gonna have a nice, little chat with the two lovely ladies in the other room.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself over, Sweetcheeks. Now, I’ve put some clothes you can use as pjs on the bed, vale?” 

He nodded as she put him back on the ground.

“Good.” Selina smiled, “Good night, Timmy!” 

“Good night.”

Later, before he passed out on her bed, Tim heard the three women speak in the other room. He wasn’t awake enough to make out their words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not plan this to become the longest chapter to date of this fic, but here we are... Anyway, I have to say I rather like this chapter, and also, sorry in advance for all the Tim feels ~~I'm joking, do scream at me. I had _fun_~~


	7. a. k. a. Everyone wants a Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has the worst luck ever when it comes to villains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's technically SUnday, since it's 12.08 am, but I still consider this Saturday. 
> 
> Btw I'm updating now because I didn't have the possibility to write this afternoon. I have about three exams in the upcoming three/four weeks and one of them has about 14 videos of two hours each I have to watch and study so like, I was doing that this afternoon. GOt around to do two videos :D
> 
> Anyway, hope you lòike the chapter!
> 
> Nieri :D

He didn’t know who had “employed” him, but Ed was not going to turn down all that money. The job was an easy one, he just had to create some chaos and distract the Bats for the time it took the Penguin’s henchmen - henchfolk? Henchpeople? How not to be sexist, since the Penguin had some really scary ladies among his underpaid ranks? - to break into Mr. Gotham’s uber-rich king Wayne to steal something - he was curious about what, because if it was valuable he was going to steal it back from the Penguin - and Oswald had lots of plans to bring his jobs to completion, so he wasn’t really worried about it. 

It was going to be so  _ easy _ . Seriously, Ed was going to be  _ so _ bored. It had been at least a year since he had last worked with Oswald, and well, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in taking back with interests all the money the other man had literally stolen from under his nose when they had worked together last time. They had a deal and the Penguin had broken it, stolen Ed’s share and left him to the wolves, or better, to the Bats -  _ not that they weren’t more akin to wolves than their namesake _ , from how violent and outright gleeful in capturing people they were - and, consequently, to the shithole that was Arkham Asylum.

But anyway, back to the boring part. Boring, so boring, because Ed didn’t even have to show up, he could just record a video, set various traps, some fake some not-fake but also not-completely-harmful-to-poor-passing-folks -  _ he was getting a conscience, okay?! _ \- and then put everything in motion with the aid of that wonderful human invention that was technology. Really, he just had to make a show, nothing less nothing more, and then he would be free to go snooping around Wayne Manor to see what Oswald had to steal. Of course careful planning could only do so much, so Ed had warned Oswald he would be ready to go in about a week. 

“I have to prepare!” he had told him, “What do you think? That distractions just grow on trees?” and that had settled it, though Oswald had been disgruntled. To Ed’s  _ immense _ pleasure, their employer was okay with Ed’s timeframe. Ed had laughed at Oswald’s face. 

A week later Ed had put his plan in motion. First he had placed various bombs - only five total were real bombs, and those would have a use for later, in case dear Ozzie wanted to take back the precious stuff he was stealing. Or if he had to make a point with the Bats. The two were interchangeable, truth be told - in various parts of the city, all far enough from each other so that the Bats would have to run back and forth. Then he had positioned a few projectors across the city, all in strategic positions and each with a different video ready to play at the push of a button. 

Everything was set, ready to go the moment he decided so. Of course he had to act at night, even though the show would be more enjoyable during the day, because the Bats had no clear sleep schedule, unless, like night guardians, they slept during the day… If they didn’t, Ed was pitying them, because he couldn’t imagine a life without his it’s-time-to-rest-the-brain nap.

Ed had had one of the real bombs explode to draw the vigilantes’ attention, and most of them had come at once to the explosion’s place. Of course Ed wasn’t there, he was  _ not _ an idiot. No, Ed was not an idiot and he was currently spying Oswald’s goons studying how to break inside Wayne’s honestly pretentious home. A comm set on the police’s frequency warned him that it was time to start step two of the plan, aka the first video. He chuckled when he heard the Bats had split to be everywhere at once. Everything was going accordingly. 

In front of him Oswald’s henchpeople had finally broken in. He heard some shots, and a scream, and he rubbed his hands together heinously, waiting patiently - though he was very excited because everything was going. According to plan. No troubles in sight. And Ed was happy, okay? His revenge was  _ finally _ sailing! - for the men to come out of the house. 

Ed blinked. He was positive  _ a kid _ was not a precious stealable thing. A kid. Oswald had to steal a kid. Oswald had been paid to steal a kid. Well if that didn’t complicate things like gum stuck in someone’s hair did. 

A few big, deep breaths and motivational words later, Ed was ready to go and steal the stolen kid. Kidnapped. Whatever. And he had. Stolen the kid, obviously. It had been laughably easy, and the kid was weirdly calm about the whole double kidnapping thing. 

Spooky.

But Ed had still picked up the kid like a sack of potatoes and run back to his hideout. He was running down the street, one of Oswald’s thugs breathing on his neck, when the child had decided to start a polite conversation.

“My name’s Tim. Yours’s Edward, right?” And then. “Mr. Riddler I’m kinda hungry.” 

Ed couldn’t deny a meal to a kid this scrawny, even if he was spooky. 

After they lost thug number 5 - he looked kinda familiar... Maybe he was Karl? He looked like Karl - down Washington Street, Ed found a diner that was, miraculously, still open. They had both eaten like there was no tomorrow, and the kid had proven to be remarkably intelligent. 

“Say, kid,” he had told him at some point, “would you be interested in being my sidekick? Batman’s got the birds, Green’s got both Catwoman and Harley, and even the Penguin’s, whom I stole you from, got help. Underpaid help but still help. I’m all alone and I think you would be perfect for this job!”

“Nope! I’m gonna be Robin!” 

Ed had, frankly speaking, been metaphorically crushed. 

“But why?”

Tim had shrugged. “He’s cool and Batman’s my favourite.”

  
  


Oswal was not happy. Oswald was  _ definitely _ not happy. First, whoever had paid him to kidnap an unknown child had decided to follow Nygma’s lead and wait more than necessary, and  _ then Nygma had dared to kidnap his kidnapped child _ ? Oswald was not going to let the man get away with it. 

The thing about the Riddler, about Nygma, was that he was  _ predictable _ , and Oswald was anything but. It was no surprise then, that he had been able to re-kidnap the double kidnapped kid and do it without much trouble. The kid hadn’t even made too much of a fuss about being kidnapped a third time. No, scratch that. The kid hadn’t even protested to the third kidnapping, hadn’t done anything but blinking and looking at Oswald like he had grown two heads. He had shaken his head and ignored his kidnapée until they reached the safety of his secret apartment in the Gotham Proper - there was no safer location for a lair than among the same people that were running from him. ‘Adapt and blend’ was the best way of disappearing, and that was exactly what he and the kid needed at the moment.

“Mr. Penguin sir, I think this house is not as safe as you might think.” 

Oswald’s attention shifted abruptly to the kid. 

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “I’m not sure I heard it correctly.”

“I... uhm... said that this house is not... uhm... the most safe...” 

The child wasn’t even looking at him in the eyes when he spoke again. His head was almost parallel to the ground and Oswald was sure that behind the curtain of black hair covering his face, his eyes were cast low. 

“And why do you think so?” 

Suddenly the child’s head was upright again and his eyes had widened. Oswald frowned, but decided to ignore the theory forming in his mind. 

“It’s... uhm... quite easy to point out?” 

“How so?”

“Because it doesn’t look like you come here often, and if no one’s ever seen someone enter this house, it’s gonna be easy to connect it to someone who doesn’t want to be found, especially if that someone is not yet dead.”

Oswald raised an eyebrow, staring musingly at the kid as he considered his words. This child was proving to be extremely interesting, after all. Maybe he could exploit what Lady Luck - as if something like that existed. Oswald had been proven many times that luck was only an excuse for people to work less, be less adept to their own goals, though this time he could consider making an exception in his beliefs - had put in his plate.

“Say, child.” he started before he really even thought about his words, “How are you interested in becoming the heir to my crime empire?” 

“Uhm... can I answer after we like, uhm... change location? Because I’m pretty sure there’s someone trying to break in from the door, and he doesn’t look like Batman...”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

They were out of the house in less than two minutes, but Oswald could still see the stranger tailing them. It was not good. It was really not good. 

They were near the city hall when they lost the stranger and Nygma found them. 

“Let go of my sidekick! You have no business in taking him!”

What was the fool babbling about? His sidekick?  _ Never _ .

“You mean my heir.” 

Nygma looked like he had been slapped with a cold fish, and Oswald cheered. 

Then he saw the green-clad man take something from his suit pocket. A small remote control. Oswald cursed. And then the bomb exploded. 

Neither of the two men saw the figure picking up the unconscious child from where he had been slammed from the explosion’s force.

  
  


Of course the time they had basically imprisoned Tim in the manor without the chance to sneak out to stalk them, someone decided to break in and  _ kidnap _ the runt. Of  _ fucking _ course. Damnit, the kid’s luck must have run out when he was a baby!  _ Heck _ , it had probably run out when the kid wasn’t even a formed fetus, just a mass of cells in his fucking mother’s womb. Jason was poetic when he wanted to be, wasn’t he? But that was not the point. 

The  _ point _ was that the kid, without even doing anything or even trying, had gotten into the biggest shit ever. And he wasn’t even able to defend himself at the moment.  _ Christ _ , that was exactly what they all needed to stop being overprotective, and Jason was pretty sure Bruce was going to put a tracker in every single thing Tim possessed, and he was also sure Barbie would follow him every second, 24/7 seven days a week. She’d also probably set up an alarm that warned her when Tim disappeared from a camera. Barbie would and Bruce would encourage her. 

Not like Jason would ever leave the Replacement alone for more than a second again now… Honestly, he could just kidnap the kid himself and put him in a baby carrier so that he wasn’t going to take his eyes off of him for more than necessary. That, and the whole family would have to agree, was the most kidnap-proof method ever, anti-escape, non-hackable, and baby-proof, if he put the straps far enough from Tim’s hands and general reach. It was  _ perfect _ . 

But now was not the time to lose himself in wishful thinking, he had a baby to un-kidnap. Yes, he is aware that’s not a word. Yes, Dickwad, he’s taking a poetic licence, he does not need to be reminded of it. Of fucking course, he’s the one who knows how to write and if Shakespeare invented a truthfully ridiculous, although very well welcomed, amount of words, so could he. Where was he? Ah yes, un-kidnap the runt. Who was currently with the Penguin somewhere in the city. Weirdly enough, the most riled up between his family members, not that they hadn’t all been ready to bathe Gotham in fire and blood to find Tim, had been the bat brat. Jason hadn’t honestly expected it. True, he  _ had _ been, Jason dared to say, brotherly with the runt during the past week, but it was still spooky. Dick had cried when he had seen Damian being nice and affectionate and Tim reciprocating the affectionate gestures. 

Back to the point, Jason, Dick and Damian had split up equally the Penguin’s bases, while B had gone to the Iceberg Lounge to check it out, As if he was going to hide a kidnapped kid there...  _ Step your game up B, greatest detective who?  _ Selina, Harley and even Poison Ivy were also combing through the city - and what Red and Harls had to do with Tim, he did not know, nor was he going to ask, honestly. The less he had to do with Ivy the better, in his opinion - and the Birds of Prey were scouting the outskirts and the less populated areas of Gotham. There was no way they weren’t going to find Tim and kick the Penguin’s ass. Except the Penguin was nowhere to be found and consequently Tim wasn’t either.  _ Fuck _ . 

Seriously, as soon as they found Tim, they were gonna wrap him up in bubble wrap and never ever leave him out of their sight again. Jason didn’t, truth be told, even want to think about the alternative. And if it ever came to that alternative, freshly Lazarus Pit bathed Jason was going to look like a saint. Anyway, they had checked even the Penguin’s secret-not so-secret apartment in Bristol, and even thought it looked like they had been there when the manhunt had started, they surely hadn’t been there when Dick had checked it. Unless Dick was blind - up to debate since sometimes he couldn’t see what he had in front of his eyes - and they had hidden so well that a Batman trained vigilante hadn’t been able to find and/or tell them apart from the furniture.

And then the comms cracked alive and Barbara warned them there had been an explosion near the city hall and the Penguin, the Riddler and Tim had been seen on site. 

Jason had never been faster than he was being now. 

He had been the third to arrive, and the first to punch Cobblepot in the face. He heard the satisfying  _ crack _ of a broken nose.

“Where is the kid?” he growled. 

The man grinned maniacally, his monocle hanging on his waistcoat. “Don’t know! He’s probably gotten kidnapped again, that demon child! Would’ve been a good.” He spit blood. “Right hand when grown up.”

Jason crashed his head against the nearest wall and the Penguin fell unconscious.

Looking towards Robin, the boy’s shaking head told him he hadn’t had luck either.

  
  


Ra’s had to admit that he didn’t expect things to end quite as... explosively as they had. Deciding to employ two of Batman’s rogues, two, he had to add, who were running low on the vigilante’s radar. It should have gone smoothly, yet the two, who should have been, by far, the most intelligent out of the... bunch of... eccentric people Batman had to work through every other week, had revealed themselves to be utter idiots.  _ They had thwarted their own plan _ . And just because of a petty revenge. 

Fortuitously he had been there to oversee the entire operation and take young Timothy with him immediately.  _ Fortuitously _ . Reality was that he had only paid those two useless idiots so that it would have been impossible to connect the man who had orchestrated the whole affair to him. And now, with the child sleeping soundly in his lap - Ra’s knew better than to underestimate Timothy even when as young as he currently was - he was sure Bruce was as far as ever from even thinking of pointing a finger at him. He had  _ won _ . 

“Who are you?”

Slowly Ra’s looked down at the perfectly awake child. He blinked. Had Timothy been feigning sleep all this time? If so, truly he was commendable. 

“My name is Ra’s Al Ghul, child.”

Timothy yawned, which confirmed that he probably hadn’t been resting, and rubbed his left eye. “That’s a weird name. Doesn’t sound English or like, from any romance or nordic language… Sounds kinda like the name of an Egyptian friend of my parents, flows like his name too. Where are you from?”

Ra’s nodded, “You are right, my child. It flows like that name because it’s Arabic, and I assume that man’s name was Arabic too.” 

Timothy mirrored him and nodded as he dislodged himself from his legs and looked out of the plane’s window. “Does it mean something? Mine means ‘honoured by God’, which is a really stuck up name if you think about it.” A new yawn interrupted the child’s speech. “Honoured by God doesn’t even start to come near to what has happened recently. I don’t really feel honoured right now. Are we on a plane? Where are we going? And why did you kidnap me?” 

It was probably exhaustion that made the child this talkative, this willing to start a conversation and ask daring questions, Ra’s mused. He could work with that, he could take advantage of it, and he would. 

“So your name is Timothy? As far as I’m concerned is very regal and your parents have a wonderful taste in names.” 

Timothy was now looking at him, no more at the scenery, eyes scanning his face in a fruitless attempt to find something, anything, that would tell him anything about Ra’s. “You know what it means.” It was not a question and Ra’s didn’t treat it like one.

“I do. And, to answer your previous questions, yes, we are on a plane. It’s headed to my home. No,” he stopped the child when he saw him open his mouth to speak. “It’s nowhere you would know the name of. Also no, I did not kidnap you.” 

As long as Timothy didn’t know the whole truth - he didn’t need to and Ra’s was not going to tell him - he could twist it to serve his purposes and gain the child’s favour. 

“If you didn’t kidnap me why am I here? People today seem to want to kidnap me a lot, Mr. Al Ghul, so it was safe to assume you had too...” 

“That’s fair, Timothy. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” 

Timothy frowned. “What do you mean you didn’t expect anything less?” 

“It means, Timothy, that the Batman speaks of you very highly and I was impatient to meet you.” 

Ra’s smiled as the child’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ of surprise and astonishment. 

“Batman? Batman tells you things about me? But-  _ why _ ?” and there was true incredulity in his tone, because Timothy truthfully couldn’t comprehend as to why someone like his childhood superhero would talk about him with words of praise. If the child’s wretched parents weren’t already dead, Ra’s would deliver them the final blow himself. To  _ ruin _ such a perfect child, how  _ despicable _ . 

“Because you are an admirable child, Timothy, and an even better young man. Don’t ever forget that.” As the child in front of him yawned once more, even though he could see he was struggling to try and stay awake, Ra’s coaxed him back to lay on his lap and started running a hand through Timothy’s dark locks. “Sleep now, my child. We have a long way ahead of us still.” 

And Tim dutifully closed his eyes, and soon enough his breaths evened out. Ra’s smiled. Everything was going smoother than oil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I stressed and panicking for the upcoming exams? Hell yes I am! Am I still gonna updating this fic? You bet! ~~If I die blame my exams btw~~


	8. a. k. a. Did you really train Batman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinks that in the end, Mr. Al Ghul is nice enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dids it! Bc if I didsn't this wouldn't be here :D 
> 
> Not stopping much on notes, I just wanted to say, to whoever wondered about it, that Alfred is alright and thriving and swore revenge on the people who kidnapped Tim.
> 
> Hope you like the chapter! ~~I am honestly not so sure about this chapter tbh, nice Ra's, bah~~
> 
> Nieri :)

When Tim woke up he had a light headache and felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks, which… wasn’t completely untrue, truth be told. 

He didn’t remember much of what had happened, only that he had talked… with the Riddler? And with the Penguin?  _ No way on earth that happened! And I’m still alive? Hoooowww... _

He didn’t know why he had been with the two of them, in their company - together? No, not together, once with the Riddler and once with the Penguin - or why they had decided he was worth their time?  _ Him? _ Him  _ him _ ?  _ Timothy Drake? _ Eight year old?  _ Oh _ . Maybe they had found out he knew Batman’s identity and that was why they wanted to talk to him... 

And then there was also the other man - what was his name again? Rais? Ra’s. - Ra’s al Ghul. He was weird, he said he talked to Batman and that Batman said Tim was  _ good _ . He didn’t know if he could believe it, he didn’t know  _ because there’s no way Batman says I’m good and admires me. No one ever does...  _

Even though  _ there was _ someone who said it explicitly in his face that he was good and admirable. Tim shook his head. Batman wouldn’t believe everything he was told, so Tim wouldn’t either. But anyway, time to explore, like Batman would. Tim sat on the bed, he was on a bed and the bed had green silk sheets -  _ I bet Mr. Wayne has silk sheets too, and silk is expensive, so Mr. Al Ghul must be really rich _ \- and it was enormous. Tim could drown in it. Dad didn’t have silk sheets, though he knew Mum had some hidden in her drawer, and also he said that silk sheets were for pretentious people. Did that mean Mr. Wayne and Mr. Al Ghul were pretentious people? Mr. Wayne didn’t seem pretentious, he’d been nice and had never flaunted his riches to other people while Tim had been with him.  _ Maybe Mr. Al Ghul is like Mr. Wayne. I hope _ . 

The rest of the room was quite spartan, compared to the bed alone, which was weird, but he didn’t think much of it. There was a big drawer, a bookshelf, a nightstand and a desk, and also a door that he supposed led to the bathroom. The walls were bare, not a hint of decorations on them, save for one that had a window with green and golden curtains. 

And also someone had changed him into weird clothes. Tim vaguely remembered an explosion, so maybe his clothes had been torn to pieces during it and whoever had changed him had only wanted to get him warm… Maybe… He really hoped that was the case.

Tim hopped down the bed and ran to the window. It didn’t have shutters, only curtains, and it looked at a small bay. Maybe it was a lake, Tim thought, or maybe the sea. It looked like the sea, though, because he couldn’t see anything on the line of the horizon. 

He turned around. Time to go out of the room and explore. 

The door wasn’t locked, and Tim released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in.  _ Not locked, good. I  _ hate _ locks _ . He peeked out from it, only his head out of the room and looked up and down the hallway. No one in sight. Tim tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door, then quietly, under his breath, started eenie meenie to see which way he was going. Eenie meenie said right, but Tim liked left best, in the end so he went that way. 

It was a maze, the place, there were corridors upon corridors upon corridors, and all looked identical. Tim regretted not having a small piece of chalk to mark the way he’d come, because he was pretty sure he was lost. And there was no one to ask directions to. The place really was so empty he had the impression it was abandoned, but there were small things that did tell him it was not. Like, for example, the heavenly smell coming from somewhere on his right. Tim followed his nose. 

As it turned out, his nose had been his best bet, since it led him to the kitchens. Which were empty, save for a plate of something left on one counter with a fork and a knife next to it. It was also apparently for him, since there was a note left right beside it. 

_ This is for you, Timothy, and when  _

_ you’re finished follow the red mark on the floor. _

It wasn’t signed, but Tim just knew that Mr. Al Ghul had left it for him, and he stared at the calligraphy, wondering how someone could get that good at it. Then he poked at the food with the fork, because this was still a stranger giving him food, and Tim had had enough experience of strangers giving food to children, given his last two months spent following Batman, to last him for a lifetime. And so he poked, though he didn’t really think it was poisoned or drugged. His stomach rumbled, and Tim sighed.  _ Oh well, it’s not like someone’s coming, I mean, Mr. Wayne has Gotham to protect, so there’s not time to come get me... _

He ate, and that meal was really good, if he got home he could ask Mrs. Mac to make it for him once or twice, if it wasn’t really complicated to make. Or he could try! Surely Batman and Mr. Wayne knew how to cook, so it would be nice if he learned too! Yes, when he got home he would try and learn! If he got home... 

Anyway, after he finished and washed the dish, the knife and the fork - he kept the knife, not that he really knew how to use it, but there was no such things at being too prepared - and put them away, he took the note and started following the red trail unraveling in front of him. With a shiver he noticed it looked like blood. 

After what had seemed to be hours, - he knew it had been only a few minutes, but everything was a carbon copy of itself and that was really messing with him and his sense of time - Tim arrived at a study. The door looked fancy, but he didn’t do much but glance at it briefly to then knock it and open it slightly. 

“Come on in, Timothy.” said a voice. It sounded familiar, so it was probably Mr. Al Ghul’s.

He entered the room, and he immediately noticed it was far more furnished than the bedroom he had slept in. He also noticed the various decorative swords and knives. The kitchen one he had hidden in his pocket suddenly weighed a ton. 

“Come closer, child.” Mr. Al Ghul said again, and Tim complied. He had a feeling Mr. Al Ghul could be very bad if he got angered, so he complied. 

Mr. Al Ghul was sitting behind a desk, the desk being full of important-looking papers and some books. When he raised his eyes to look at Mr. Al Ghul, Tim saw he was observing him.  _ Weird _ . 

“Was the meal to your taste, my child?” 

“Yes, sir.” He replied, hands flying behind his back, back straightening and head hanging low, just like his parents liked. 

“Good. I assume you have also found the room and your clothing acceptable, haven’t you? And there’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Timothy.” Mr. Al Ghul was smiling, and it was kind of reassuring, if he was being honest. “Come here, closer, Timothy.” 

He did.

“Can I pick you up, Timothy?” 

Tim wasn’t sure, but also Mr. Al Ghul hadn’t done anything warranting being worried or scared. He nodded, and Mr. Al Ghul passed his arms around Tim’s waist and made him sit in his lap. 

“Look, child. What do you see?” 

Tim frowned, because some of those papers looked like résumés someone sent to be hired and others looked like the kind of documents his parents kept in their offices at DI. But the résumés looked weird  _ and where did I see something like that already? _

The answer left him breathless. The Cave! He’d seen something similar on Batman’s computer! 

“Are those- what’s the name? Profiling paper things.” 

“They’re called dossiers, Timothy.”

Dossiers, he could remember that. And why would Mr. Al Ghul have dossiers over people? His eyes zeroed in on a specific one.  _ Mr. Al Ghul has a dossier over Mr. Wayne? Why? _ Tim turned towards the man, frown deepening. 

“If you’re wondering why I have a dossier on Bruce Wayne, whom I knew was your caretaker these past weeks, it’s because I know he’s dangerous.” 

_ Oh? Maybe it’s better to play it cool and pretend I don’t know what this is about, after all Batman must stay a secret,  _ and Tim knew how to keep secrets. 

“Mr. Wayne is dangerous?” he asked as innocently as he could, “I think that’s a lie, because once I saw him cry over spilling a drink all over his  _ shirt _ .” Which was true, it had happened, but Tim knew it was just for cover because there was no way Batman would cry over spilling a drink. So of course it was for cover.

“I might be old, child,” Mr. Al Ghul said dryly, “but I am no fool. I know Bruce Wayne is the Batman, and that’s why I have his dossier. Yes,” he nodded at Tim’s bewildered expression, “I know you have found out Batman’s identity.” 

How did he  _ know _ ! Tim had kept his mouth shut and he really doubted Mr. Wayne had told him that himself or had been so careless as to let Mr. Al Ghul find out his secret. Tim wanted to ask him how he had been able to discover Mr. Wayne’s secret, maybe try and notice things to help Mr. Wayne -  _ if I get out of here _ \- but instead the only thing that came out was a pitiful and jealous “ _ He told you _ ?”.

Apparently Mr. Al Ghul found Tim’s struggles funny, because he was smiling. “He didn’t tell me, Timothy, but I already knew.” 

_ Oh _ . And then after a beat.

“How?”

“Because I trained him.” 

_ What? He trained- he trained Batman? He did? Wow! _

Tim’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. If he had opened it a little more, he probably would have dislodged his jaw.

“ _ You trained Batman?! _ ” 

If Tim could he would be bouncing up and down for the excitement. As it was he opted for a more quiet inner bouncing. He didn’t know if Mr. Al Ghul was okay with him behaving like a toddler - Mum and Dad sure weren’t, and wouldn’t be anymore, he added sourly to himself - and he didn’t want to make him mad anyway. 

Mr. Al Ghul was frowning. Tim cringed and tried to make himself as small as humanly possible. That was bad, that was  _ so _ bad, now he was mad and he would send Tim away and- 

“Timothy, are you alright?” 

Tim blinked. Mr. Al Ghul wasn’t mad? And he asked if  _ Tim _ was alright? In what dimension had he been transported to?

“I’m fine, Mr. Al Ghul. Don’t worry.”

“You are not, my child, but since I can see you’re not ready to talk about what yet, what do you say if I show you the library?” Suddenly Mr. Al Ghul stood and  _ he didn’t put Tim down. Why isn’t he putting me down. I can walk, he doesn’t have to keep holding me! _

Mr. Al Ghul kept holding him during the whole trip to the library and it was _ so weird _ . No one ever held Tim, he was not a baby and he didn’t need to be carried, so  _ why was Mr. Al Ghul doing it _ ? Even when they arrived at the library he didn’t put Tim down, but instead kept showing him old books, the majority of which were in a language he couldn’t read. From the looks of it seemed Arabic. He couldn’t read Arabic, he could barely read French, as it was, so he wasn’t really interested in that. 

“Uhm... can you tell me more about Batman, please?” He asked quietly, “How come he... uhm... came to you for training? And does that mean you can beat him?”

Mr. Al Ghul smiled and Tim felt himself smile too, mirroring the man. He was nice, and he trained Batman, so he couldn’t be bad, right? 

“You see, my child...” 

  
Timothy spent the rest of the afternoon quietly listening to Mr. Al Ghul speaking about Batman, thinking that maybe,  _ maybe _ , things were finally looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's done! It was weird writing nice Ra's, especially because the only time I wrote him he just dumped Tim in a Lazarus Pit and was like "Welcome home, Detective." so like...


	9. a. k. a. Lady Luck is easy to bother if you try hard enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason calls the cavalry and Dick finds some clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In time!!! Yay! I noticed I never did a Dick chapter, so I thought I'd rectify that :))
> 
> To everyone, sorry if I replied to the comments to the previous chapter right after posting this one, but my procrastination, and an exam on Tuesday got the best of me.  
> If you're wondering that exam went well enough, could've done betetr if only I didn't confuse verbal tenses names and therefore conjugate verbs in the wrong tense... But anyway, I passed that one so like yay! Now I've got other three and then I'm free for the summer!
> 
> Hope you like this chapter :D
> 
> Nieri :)

Dick had never been one to mull too much over weird happenings, because if life with the Bats, the Titans, the Justice League and just the vigilante/hero world itself had taught him anything, it was that weird things are never weird because they become the norm. 

And it was this simple fact, this simple habit, that hadn’t had him scream when Tim had been turned into a kid. Or better, this little fact had everything to do with him not screaming because Tim had been turned into a souvenir sized version of himself - damn, his little brother was small! - and had everything to do with him screaming because his now pint sized, now eight years old, little brother was unfairly cute and adorable. Every little scrunch of his nose at something weird someone did, every time his little brows furrowed in concentration, every time he stuck his tongue out when he was focusing on something, be it a drawing, be it a book, be it  _ anything _ ; Dick wanted to just wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him like there was no tomorrow. Because yes, little, baby Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was that cute. Even Damian agreed,  _ Damian _ . Itty bitty Timmy had been a blessing, really, when it came to his youngest - well not right now - brother and his second brother, because the boy had taken to little Tim like peanut butter took to jam in a sandwich and had declared himself the child’s shadow, basically. Not that it had done much when Timmy had been kidnapped, because duh, the Riddler had seemed to be everywhere in the city at once, and with a lot of bombs scattered around and they had had to call everyone they could to get to all the bombs in time. Which meant, unfortunately, that Tim and Alfred had been left at the Manor alone. 

It wasn’t like they were worried, though: the Manor had one of the best security systems out in the world, rivalling that of the Watchtower because  _ of course _ Bruce would be so paranoid as to always be a step ahead of everyone. Also, Alfred was highly competent and would have been able to protect Tim. That was what they had thought, that was why no one had stayed back with them.

When they had received the call it had been too late. Dick had been the closest to home, and had gone to make surer Alfred was alright and to understand what had happened. There were a few people unconscious and tied up in the living room, when he had arrived, and Alfred was icing a bruise on his cheek. There had been no trace of Tim, anywhere. Alfred had hurried him out of the Manor, directing him towards the Penguin and saying he had already called the police. Still, the Penguin had escaped, and the Riddler had disappeared too, at some point, which  _ of course _ . How hadn’t they understood it sooner? They were working together, the Riddler and the Penguin, and one was playing bait for them.  _ Of course _ . And they had fallen into the trap, jumping on the Riddler like mice to cheese. Idiots. All of them.

They had regrouped and then scattered once more, and even then they had found nothing. Dick had been the one to check Bristol, since the Penguin had bought a house there years ago - never used it once. Every time they passed it and broke inside, it was still abandoned, still uninhabited and dust covered everything, like a thick blanket. Alfred would be horrified if he ever saw it. Someone had been there.  _ Someone had been there _ .  _ Tim _ . Whoever had been there, though, had been long gone when Dick had entered the house. Also, apparently, someone had broken in before he had, since he had found the lock on the door shattered.

He had called the others on the comms, saying that they had been in Bristol up until not long ago, and that he had found evidence of a previous break-in, still after the Penguin and Tim had gone. That had also been the moment Babs had warned them a bomb had gone off near the city hall. 

When Dick had arrived on site he had immediately looked around for Tim, but the only things he saw were the Penguin and the Riddler being hauled off by the police, and Damian and Jason speaking with Bruce in hushed tones but and raging words, and, while he observed them, Babs had explained what the other two had found. Tim hadn’t been there when Red Hood and Robin arrived, and not even the Riddler or the Penguin knew where he was, or if someone else had taken him. A fucking dead end. 

“We have to check everywhere.” Bruce had told them the day after, after Alfred had forced all of them, including the Birds and the Sirens - Alfred was powerful and he knew it - to take a few hours of sleep. 

They had, and they had immediately ruled out that the kid was still in Gotham. They had scoured the city up and down for days, broken into warehouses and apartments but nothing. Tim had seemingly disappeared from Gotham. But, and this had been mostly luck, they had found something else. 

It had been Dick and Damian, they were checking Drake Manor because one can never say, and maybe Tim had gone there to be somewhere familiar and safe. The front door had been left ajar, but inside looked like nothing had been moved, or removed, and there was no sign that anyone had been living there or spent the night or just stole something. It was all perfect and pristine, preserved since last time Tim had been there. Apart from the open door. Weird. At the Manor - because of course Zatanna knew their identities, she was basically an old family friend - Zatanna, come back on-planet after her trip and joined them during Tim’s disappearance, had surprised everyone in a matter of seconds, with just a few words. 

“Why is this house impregnated with magic?” 

Calling Zatanna had been the providential godsend, because at least they figured out Tim had been hit by some sort of spell, an ancient one at that, and reverted to his eight year old body and mind. When they had come back, anyway, Zatanna had taken a look at them and then asked them, literally, where the fuck had they found a magic that old and powerful, because apparently Drake Manor was also saturated to the brim with magic and that magic had stuck to them. It also seemed like whoever had cast a spell on Tim, had also cast a spell on the Drakes’ house, so either that had happened before Tim had been hit by it, after or during, and it was also probable that whoever had done it, had also kidnapped Tim. 

Baby steps, Dick kept telling himself. Baby steps. 

At least now they had a lead, if a faint one, which was way more than they had before. As a lead though, it was as awful as leads can be, and Zatanna hadn’t been able to tell them who the caster was, but she had been able to tell them that they were out of the country. With a little more time, she told them, she could find if they were still on-planet and, if they were, where they were. 

So now they were waiting, it had been about a week since Zatanna had taken off to find out the caster, or casters, and Tim. But since Zatanna would take long, and they didn’t have much time - Tim could be in danger without the means to defend himself! -  _ Jason _ had proposed to bring in the big guns. That said, about half an hour later, a bunch of teenagers had invaded the Manor. 

“Hey where’s Tim?” 

“I’m really happy you two know how to fly, you know how long it would’ve taken me and Anita to come here?”

“I thought he said he was here?”

“Ivesearchedthehouseandhesnothere!”

“Aka y’all are lucky I’m here. So what happened to Tim?” 

“Dunno about you but the place is so packed with magic I’m gonna throw up.”

“OophopeitsnotanotherKlarionsituationlikedonwannahavethewholenotheruniversethingagain!” 

“Magic? Ugh, I  _ hate _ magic!”

“Anyway, thank you two for coming even tho you don’t do the superheroing anymore!” 

“Totally okay! It’s Tim we’re talking about, we wouldn’t leave him to the wolves, right Cissie?”

“Couldn’t have said it better, Anita! Also, after last time, there’s no way he’s disappearing on us again, because he knows if he does I’ll kill him first.” 

“Guys, maybe we should ask them why we’re here and what happened to Tim...”

Five teenagers turned towards him and Bruce shooting them expectant looks. In the corner of his eyes, on the side, Dick saw Jason grin amusedly. 

“So?” Cassie asked. “Why are we here? Where’s Tim?” 

“I believe,” Alfred chose that moment to interrupt, “that we all better have this conversation in front of some tea. Master Jason please come help me. Master Bruce, Master Richard, please bring our guests to the living room.” 

They all scrambled to do as they were told. 

A few minutes later, Cassie, Conner, Bart, Anita and Cissie all sat on the sofa, some sprawled some composed, and were looking at them with a frown. 

“So what you’re telling us,” started Cissie, “is that Tim got turned into his eight year olds self and got kidnapped by some evil wizards-” 

“They didn’t tell the wizards were evil, maybe they were there to help Tim?”

“They kidnapped him so I’m not really sure your theory holds, Bart.” 

“But like, still! Maybe they kidnapped him to save him!” 

“That magic was filling Drake Manor to the brim, and it seemed to have been there festering for years.” Bruce intervened, “We wanted to ask your help, Superboy’s specifically, to find Tim.”

“Sorry, can’t help. I’m sure you know children’s heartbeats are way faster than adults’ and teenager’s and that makes it very, very hard, if not impossible at all, to recognise Tim’s.” Superboy looked and sounded apologetic and very, very worried, and Dick couldn’t blame him for not being able to find Tim, because it really wasn’t Conner’s fault. 

“It’s okay, Conner. And still, thank you.” 

“Hey Anita, you can’t do anything, right?” asked Bart after a second, pacing musingly behind the sofa.

Anita shook her head, “Nothing, mon.” and then at them, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay.” he nodded at her. “We have already asked Zatanna to find out all that she can, but we hoped Connor’s enhanced hearing could help us speed up things.”

“How long ago did you ask Zatanna?” Cassie, this time, pointedly staring at Bruce.

“She went off about a week ago, we haven’t heard since.”

“Mmmhh...”

“Hey!” Bart again. “I know we’re supposed to be dark and gritty right now, but do you have photos of little Tim?”

“I’m not sur-”

“Here, young sir.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say, and indeed Alfred did appear - almost as if he was summoned. ick was joking, but Alfred really could give the Bat a run for his money - with a newly bought photo album and handed it to the young speedster. 

The kids all huddled around Bart to take a look, and soon the room was filled with laughter,  _ awww _ ’s and  _ oh my gods he’s tiny _ ’s, as the girls cooed at the photos and the boys laughed at Tim’s expressions and general adorableness. And embarrassing photos. Like the one Dick took when Tim had planted face first into a puddle of mud and had come out looking like Clayface. Or that one Jason took when Alfred forced Tim and Damian into matching outfits. Embarrassing matching outfits. Or that other one in which Dick was holding Tim by an ankle while the child tried to free himself. There might have been lots of embarrassing and adorable photos of tiny Tim, and Dick might have been the one who took most of them... When Tim reverted back to his teenage self Dick would make sure he’ll never see those photos. Never. Ever.

The lightheartedness Tim’s friend brought had been very much accepted and welcomed, because, truth be told, these past nine days were finally taking their toll on everyone, and a bit of laughter was making miracles, honestly. 

And later, after Alfred had given the five teenagers rooms to sleep in for the night - “We refuse to go away until we find Tim!” “We’re gonna help and you can do nothing to stop us!” - Dick really felt better. More hopeful. It probably wouldn’t last though, it never lasted.  _ I hope _ , he thought,  _ that this at least reaches a full day _ . It didn’t. 

  
The next morning, while they were all having breakfast. a hurried knock on the door interrupted their meal, and, after Alfred went to greet their guest, Zatanna barged into the room, breathing frantically. 

“We’ve found something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> If you're wondering who the "we" Zatanna says is, you'll have to wait for the beginning of chapter 11 :333  
> For the record, for that we blame the twitter rp, I do.


	10. a. k. a. Be like Ezio, climb and jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim really should stop playing videogames...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry if I missed last Saturday, but I had to study for an exam! To apologize tho, today there will be a double update! Yay!
> 
> Also sorry everyone, I keep arriving to reply to comments very late :(( 
> 
> Anyway, this is the chapter, and I love it!
> 
> Nieri :D

_ Tap tap tap tip tap _

Small, quiet steps echoed softly through the hallways and came to a stop in front of the heavy wooden door. As silently as possible, a little hand pushed it open that much enough to slip in the room. His three months of hiding and stal-  _ It’s not stalking brain, shut up! _ \- following the vigilantes through not really legal means had honed his skills. Yes, three months were enough. Maybe. 

The room was empty, or so it looked like. The child swiftly looked around, eyes pausing on the dark corners and the heavy velvet curtains, finding nothing amiss there. No one was hiding in there, he was sure. 

Quickly he walked to the desk and climbed on the chair, then started skimming through the stacks of paper ordinately put in the far corner of the wooden surface. He wasn’t sure about how the thing he was searching looked like, Mr. Al Ghul hadn’t been very specific, but he was pretty sure that by now Mr. Al Ghul already knew he was in his study, and that was exactly what Tim didn’t want. But anyway, after having put the papers back, trying to place them as they were before, he moved to the drawers to also skirt through them. At last, in the third drawer on the left, he found something that might be what Mr. Al Ghul meant for him to take.  _ Steal. He wants me to steal from him and not get caught, I wonder why... _

Immediately after, Tim hid it in a secret pocket, one he had somehow managed to stitch, even if quite badly, and yes, he was aware of it, on the inside of any article of clothing (save for socks and underwear) - and really, he was grateful Mrs. Mac hadn’t thought anything of it when he had asked her if she could teach him how to sew, else now he’d be in serious troubles and with no place to hide his prize in.    
Tim smiled, pleased of the feat he’d managed to accomplish and  _ awesome! Now I have better get out of here immediately, before someone comes in looking for me! _

Rapidly he reorganised everything, chair included, and then basically ran out of the door, stopping only to make sure no one had seen him and that the door didn’t make a sound when he closed it.

He was bouncing along when he finally reached his room, and that and the exhilaration he was feeling had been the dooming clock hands pointing right at the hour of his demise. He hadn’t paid attention when he entered his room, he hadn’t paid attention, too caught up by the object in his hands, and so he went crashing on someone’s chest. 

Tim stumbled backwards, hands tightening on his shirt where the secret pocket was, and barely managed to catch himself in time, before he met the oh so welcoming hard floor. 

Raising his eyes, he saw one of Ra’s subordinates, not one of the ninjas, one of the others who looked more like the assassins, and Tim didn’t want to think about what it meant if they were  _ real _ assassins, in the movie of Prince of Persia - the games were so much better, but their assassins didn’t look like these. It was a woman, and miraculously her face was completely visible, so Tim did what every good child -  _ every good child your mother raised, so barely you, you stupid _ \- and smiled sweetly at her, ensuring to make eye-contact, and then feigned ignorance.

“Hi!”  _ It’s like one of your roleplays and this is a NPC, stay calm, she doesn’t know you have it! _ “Are you new?”

Unlike a NPC, though, the assassin-like woman didn’t have pre-programmed answers and ignored him, stony-faced and quiet. But that didn’t deter Tim anyway, he was used to brickwall people just being there, so he knew how to carry on a conversation alone. It wasn’t a hassle, at all. 

“I think you’re new, I have never seen you around!” he continued, “But you’re also good at the whole impassibility thing both the Queen’s guards and Altair’s statue in Assassin’s Creed have, so you’re probably not as new as I thought...” 

The woman still didn’t say anything, not even sigh or something; she just put a hand on Tim’s shoulder and led him out of his room. Oh. So Mr. Al Ghul did indeed already know of his now-not-successful mission and had sent her to retrieve him. As they walked towards where Mr. Al Ghul was, not even the mantra he kept repeating,  _ it’s a roleplay, the protagonist wins, they’re all NPCs _ did nothing to ease his rising anxiety. 

What if Mr. Al Ghul was disappointed? True, in the almost three weeks Tim had been his guest, Mr. Al Ghul had been nice and had surely gone out of his way to make sure Tim had everything he might need or want, including complete access to the library - no internet, though, or technology in general. Why didn’t Mr. Al Ghul want him to use a computer or even a phone?  _ That _ was weird - and watch some of his ninjas and PoP assassin-like subordinates, but he also had been teaching him things,  _ did he really think I wouldn’t have noticed it? I’m not so oblivious not to notice something like this, especially since mother has done almost the same, when I was little... _ under the guise of challenges and games and  _ wow _ , he was  _ very _ demanding. 

Anyhow, Mr. Al Ghul was in his private library, the one that had many precious books - and precious meant  _ precious first copies of book who must have been centuries old _ \- and was comfortably sitting on a dark green divan, a tray with tea on the small table next to it and a book in his hands. He didn’t even move his eyes from the pages when Tim’s nanny of the hour knocked and then lightly pushed him inside. 

Back to the PoP and games subject for a second, Mr. Al Ghul looked exactly like a NPC ready to give him a quest. The resemblance to some of the inn owners he had encountered in some games was almost frightening, honestly... 

Tim watched the door being closed after him, staring petrified as the woman nodded once at him, curtly, and silently pulled the door towards herself. The sound reminded him more of the gates of a prison than a friendly and fat inn owner’s laughter. 

“Come sit, Timothy.”

Tim turned abruptly to stare at Mr. Al Ghul, who was now looking carefully at him. Without speaking, he obeyed and went to take a seat next to the man. Warily Tim kept staring as Mr. Al Ghul placed a bookmark on the page he had arrived at, put the book on the table and next to the tray and then poured some tea in a spare cup Tim had only now noticed. 

“Be careful, my child, the tea is hot.” 

He nodded as he took the steaming cup the man offered him. The tea smelled like jasmine, Mr. Pennyworth’s favourite - Jason’s was Earl Grey and wasn’t that funny, since Mr. Pennyworth was British and Jason was not? - and Tim blew on it to then immediately take a sip once he was sure he was not going to burn his tongue. 

“Say Timothy, did you do what I asked you to?” 

From his cup of tea, Tim nodded slowly. He already had an idea of where Mr. Al Ghul was heading with this conversation, and it wasn’t something he anticipated with pleasure. 

Mr. Al Ghul nodded too, once, then stretched his arm and hand out, wordlessly requesting, ordering, really, what Tim had managed to steal. 

Deliberately slow, Tim put his cup next to him on the divan and dug his hand under his half-sleeved dark blue shirt, to then rummage inside the secret pocket. 

As calmly as he could manage, he placed a small, yet heavy and encrusted with small gems, pocket watch in Mr. Al Ghul’s hand. 

Mr. Al Ghul observed it for a moment, then put it on the tray. 

“Well done, my child. Were you discovered?” 

_ He’s just asking about the quest, he’s just asking and maybe I can dare... _

“Was I?” 

Mr. Al Ghul  _ smiled _ . It was probably meant to be encouraging, to have Tim speak more easily, but the reality was that it was kinda scary.

“I don’t see how, child. In my study there are no cameras, nor microphones. Did you see someone?” 

He hadn’t seen anyone, but that didn’t  _ mean _ there wasn’t someone. He should have checked the curtains,  _ he should have checked the curtains _ . 

“I didn’t see anyone, Mr. Al Ghul, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone. I know I should’ve checked the curtains. There is no way you didn’t have that miss bring me here without knowing for sure I had completed the task. Am I right?”

“Indeed you are, Timothy, and indeed you should have checked the room better, but you’re still learning, so I will let it slide for this once.” And then, “You did good, Timothy. I’m proud of you.”

_ Oh. _

_ He’s- he’s proud of me? I did good? But I wasn’t careful in assessing if there were people spying on me! Why did he say he’s proud of me? _

Before he could stop himself and his large mouth, Tim spoke once more. “Why?”

Mr. Al Ghul frowned, then sighed once. “You completed the task, my child, and you did better than I had predicted. That’s why I’m proud of you. You managed to surprise me, Timothy, and that doesn’t happen often.”

It was Tim’s turn to frown, because yeah, on one hand Mr. Al Ghul did look like someone who wasn’t surprised by anything ever, but on the other hand he must have been surprised at some other point in his life. 

However, Mr. Al Ghul didn’t let him have the time to find a decent reply to his comment, and ushered him out of the small library with a “I’ll see you later for dinner, Timothy. For now go back to your room, there is a present for you.” 

Of course, always well behaved, Tim had obeyed.

In his room there was indeed a present, neatly placed on his bed. It wasn’t really the kind of present Tim liked, but he couldn’t say no to a gift, not especially to a gift Mr. Al Ghul had given him. He was being nice, and one can’t say no to niceness. 

So well, at dinner he would have to ask for a sheath for his new fancy and definitely sharp - he had already a cut on his hand to prove its sharpness - new dagger. 

And even if he didn’t like it, Tim could still put it to good use as soon as Mr. Al Ghul deemed it safe enough to take him back to Gotham. At least he could use it to defend himself from all the muggers that left their hideouts in Gotham at night... 

_ Why did he give me a dagger, though? I have never used a dagger, I don’t need it... Also, isn’t it the same as using a knife? At least a knife has multiple uses, but a dagger...  _

But well, now that he thought about it, maybe it had another use, but he’d have to ask Mr. Al Ghul if it was possible. And at dinner he did.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Al Ghul... It’s not like I didn’t like your gift, it’s just, uhm... Could it be transformed uhm… into a secret blade like the- like the one in Assassin’s Creed?” 

Mr. Al Ghul looked, in that moment, like Tim had suddenly grown two heads. “What is this assassin’s creed you speak of, child? I do not know of any creed assassins have.” 

Uh? Assassins like in  _ actual _ assassins? He really, really hoped not. Batman couldn’t work with assassins, Batman didn’t kill.

“It’s a uhm... game, sir. It’s pretty cool...” 

Mr. Al Ghul nodded musingly, “A game, so? I’ll see what can be done. Don’t expect anything, though, Timothy.” 

It’s not like Tim ever expected anything to be done for him, so that was fine. And the promise of looking into it was, if anything much better than nothing. The only thing that soured his dinner, was, though, that Mr. Al Ghul seemed to talk like he knew actual assassins. Tim would have to look into it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> Sorry again for the tardiness, and thank you for the comprehension :)


	11. a. k. a. Canada should give hell to people in hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which magic is involved and people wonder about marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea of what is going on in this chapter. What I know is that I tried, and failed, to give John Constantine an accent and that the 9 tabs about Scouse slang have been useless. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is basically a 2000 words dialogue? Because I had no idea on how to write it and dialogue is easy?
> 
> But anyway, hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
> Nieri :D

_ “We’ve found something!”  _

  
  


Their breakfast had been interrupted quite brusquely, but it was worth it, definitely. Zatanna had found some rather interesting things, and well, interesting did, more often than not, mean very dangerous and likely to kill you soon enough. 

The small detail that was not worth it, and it wasn’t a  _ small _ detail per se - more like a five feet eleven, 150 pounds, small british detail - was leaning on the wall right next to the kitchen door, and it was speaking. 

  


“Got any scran here, chief? Pretty over there dragged me here after we spent the night finalizing the details of what we found.”

  


It wasn’t that John Constantine wasn’t welcome in the house, but he also wasn’t really welcome in the house. Not that it mattered to any of them anyway, since a) the house was not theirs, b) he was here with Zatanna  _ and _ c) they had news for them. Hopefully good. Hopefully. Not like that happened often, though.

As it was, anyway, the five of them were totally okay with Constantine being here, and it wasn’t like they had never collaborated before - Tim knew the weirdest people, really. 

  


“Of course, Mr. Constantine. There is still some toast and eggs left from the breakfast you just interrupted.”

  


Watching Constantine eat, the only one in the room, save for Bart - “Hey you know how speedsters are, we need constant energy and food provides energy. Can I have more Mr. Pennyworth? Thanks!” - Zatanna rolled her eyes and sighed, but still started to explain what the two of them had uncovered. 

  


“Your child, Bruce, has stumbled upon something ancient. Ancient and, from what we’ve found,  _ dangerous _ . We’ve been at Drake Manor, and do you remember how I’ve told you the place was saturated with magic?”

  


General nods all around. 

  


“Well, we’ve found out  _ why _ .”

  


“That said,” Constantine gulped down a bite of toast, “that lad’s old fellas put their hands somewhere they  _ definitely _ shouldn’t have.”

  


“Was it linked with dark magic?” Anita piped up, frowning deeply as she asked.

  


Zatanna nodded, as Constantine spoke. “Bloody sure, hun. The two old fools found somethin’ and decided to keep it when they should’ve left it where they took it from, I’m tellin’ ye’.” 

  


“Do we know what that is?” 

  


Both turned towards Bruce, and this time it was Zatanna who spoke. “No, we couldn’t find any record of what artifact they discovered, but whatever it was it had been stolen by the time we arrived at the house. What’s more important, though, like John said, is that it’s related to dark magicians.” 

  


“And how will this help us find Tim?” Everyone could see Cissie was becoming impatient at a very alarming rate, not uncommon, she was the most prone to anger among them. 

  


“This specific information? It won’t, but it did help in other ways-”

  


“What pretty here is tryin’ to say, is that those people who magicked your little friend are the same the artifact belonged to, and that they are  _ very _ old,  _ very _ bad arlarses. Literally, hun. Around as old as the very first magic users.” 

  


The whole room fell into a stunned silence, because that was definitely something they didn’t expect. Dark magic was definitely a sore subject, not because they had ever met dark magicians, but because they  _ had _ heard many stories. It wasn’t pretty. 

  


“Are they worse than la brujería?”

  


Apparently not everyone was frozen by the revelation, Anita, as their trusted, local magic user, wasn’t really fazed by the two adults’ revelation, and was staring at them with focused attention. 

  


“What do you know about la brujería?”

  


Anita shrugged, “Only what my nana told me, but she did tell me lots. Now, are they worse than la brujería?”

  


Zatanna and Constantine exchanged a look that told everyone in the room that  _ yes _ , they probably were.

  


“We’re not sure.” 

  


“Sure you are! Like we believe you on this, spill the tea, Constan-teen.” 

  


Whoever had decided, in their early days together, that showing memes to Conner was a good idea had been wrong. So  _ bloody _ wrong. 

  


“It’s  _ tine _ , you heathen! How many bloody times will I have to tell ye’?!”

  


They all heard Zatanna’s very loud, very pained sigh, and saw her facepalm, shaking her head as she did so, muttering under her breath. “A  _ child _ . I’m in a relationship with a child.” 

  


Even if no one dared to say it out loud, they all pitied her. The girls, at least. Cassie was pretty sure the boys were having fun. Well, the majority of the boys, since Mr. Wayne looked as pained as Zatanna and Damian was frowning deeply.

  


“Can we please go on? We have Tiny Tim to save, if you all have forgotten!” And yes, Cassie was done with the two idiots’s bickering. 

  


Zatanna shot her a grateful look before she started speaking again. 

  


“Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” she pointedly stared at Constantine, who smiled apologetically, “we’re not sure if this group of dark magicians is worse or better than la brujería, but what we know for sure is that they’re up to no good, and that your friend has been kidnapped probably because he’s been in contact with their artifact so long. We don’t know why they kidnapped him though, other than that, since they were the ones to steal the artifact from his house.” 

  


“And do they have a name?” This time it was Jason, who spoke, sitting rigidly on his chair. “I know the name means fucking nothing, but I wanna know the name of the people I have to punch in the face. To prepare, y’know...”

  


“Eee... No, chief. Not that we know of, at least, which is utter rubbish, if you ask me.”

  


“No one did, John, and now shut up and let me go on.”

  


“Sure thing, love.” 

  


“How are they still not married?” Cissie whispered to Cassie, as Bart made a gagging motion, “They speak like they’ve been married for years!”

  


A fake, polite cough made them all turn back towards Zatanna, who was staring at the two girls with a raised brow and not-impressed look. “If you two are done,” she said, “I’m going to go on.”

  


They both nodded. After a few seconds, finally Zatanna looked away and fixed her eyes on Constantine.

  


“Can you please pass me the bag?”   
  
The bag was exactly what it looked like, a normal blue Walmart bag, but at least Conner and Bart, from the looks they were exchanging, thought it was probably magical, like Mary Poppins’ or something. Actually, Cassie was pretty sure it might be.She wouldn’t put it past either of them, if they had put a spell on it. Just as Constantine gave her the bag, Dick, of all people - not Conner, not Bart, but  _ Dick _ \- braved the question, “Is it magical?”

  


They both looked at him weirdly, “No? It’s just a normal Walmart bag?”

  


“Yeah, mate. Got it last time we went refillin’ the pantry.” 

  


Dick did, honest to god, turn as red as Starfire’s hair. “But I thought...”

  


“It’s a normal Walmart bag, Dick. I assure you. Now I’ll better get going, this is going to take long.” 

  


From the bag, Zatanna took out a stack of papers and a map and placed them all neatly on the table. First thing she did was open the map, then she started searching through the pages, all densely written, with weird symbols apparently at random and lots and lots of arrows pointing from one sentence to the other to a symbol, and put a few on the side, within easy reach. They all observed in religious silence then, as she started searching for something else in the bag, only to have Constantine tap lightly on her shoulder and hand her a crystal. “Here, love.”

  


“Thank you, John.” And then at them. “Okay, I have everything ready.”

  


In that brief moment between the end of her sentence and waiting for them to settle themselves, she realized she should have just started speaking, without giving them any time to collect their thoughts.

  


“Okay, so what has happened? Why did they steal the artifact  _ and _ Tim?” 

  


“Even if you don’t have any idea about what the thing they stole is, do you have any idea of what it can do?”   
  


“Is the map to try and locate them and Drake?”

  


“ _ Children, shut up and let her speak! _ ”

  


Thank god for Bruce, honestly, and his ability to reign in kids. 

  


“I’m twenty two, I’m not a child!”

  


“I’m no child, father! The others, though...” 

  


“Bruce!”

  


Okay scratch that, this needed drastic measures. Zatanna turned towards John and nodded. The man smirked at her before reciting a spell under his breath. Suddenly, a loud, prolonged, and frankly quite annoying, alarm rang through the air, effectively silencing everyone. After John ended the spell, Zatanna cleared her throat to then start speaking again.

  


“As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” she glared at them, Constantine giving them thumbs up in the background -  _ why _ was he giving them thumbs up was a mystery - “now that I have everything ready, I’ll start explaining what we effectively have found out. And yes, Damian, the map will be used to try and locate them and, hopefully, Tim.” 

  
“Anyway,” she continued, “as we already told you, who probably took him is an ancient, I’d say cult, but there aren’t many mentions of them anywhere- is an ancient group of dark magicians, who were searching for a magic artifact Tim’s parents found and kept. We have supposed that Tim, somehow, managed to gain some of the magic the artifact oozed, and that’s why he’s been kidnapped. Truth be told, we are not sure of this point, because the magic he absorbed should have had worn off by now, especially since we have confirmed he hasn’t been in his home in at least four years.” 

  


“You’re forgettin’ about the magic, love.”

  


“Oh, thanks.”

  


They both smiled at each other, in a display of sugar sweet domesticity. Bart hadn’t been wrong to simulate gagging earlier. 

  


“Like John just reminded me, we  _ did _ find something about the magic, or better, the magic signature. Like in hacking, as I’m sure Barbara can tell you, every magician leaves some sort of signature.The more powerful a magician is, the less this signature can be easily found, but as it is, the dark magicians who kidnapped Tim were many and, even if powerful, they had a very distinct trace to them.  _ This _ is what put us on the right path, and this is also what we’ll use to find them.”

  


“Then what are you waiting for? Tim could be in danger!” 

  


“Chief, she’s doing her bloody best, and if that lad were dead, or about to die, we would’ve known, since the bloody magic that started all this shite would’ve been released!” 

  


Bruce did shut up at that, and stayed in silence as Zatanna took the crystal and started her location spell. After a while, they all saw the tiny white crystal stop somewhere in the middle of nothing in Canada. He hoped the weather was giving them hell, honestly. They didn’t deserve to enjoy the scenery. 

Suddenly the crystal was dragged on the opposite side of the map, in the Arabic peninsula. The entire group felt their blood run cold. The Arabic Peninsula could mean only one thing. Ra’s. 

  


“ _ Grandfather _ took him.” And well, Damian looked as taken aback as they all were. Not that anyone could fault him. 

  


Ra’s was a... sore spot in their history, one they would’ve like to wipe away so many times. The man still kept sliding through their fingers, uncatchable, hiding and hitting when it was less expected, fast, like a snake. And twice as deadly. 

  


“I know that base.” Damian spoke again, “I have been there once or twice, but I know it’s one grandfather favours. It also does have a Lazarus Pit.”

  


_ That _ was a detail no one liked to think about. 

  


“How fast can we get there, Bruce?”

  


“Me, Bart and Cassie can be there in less than an hour.”

  


They were going to save Tim. Now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> So yeh, baddies in Canada can't enjoy the view and I have no idea on how to write Jotanna.


	12. a. k. a. Let us sing a Disney song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which wizards do magic and Tim plans his own survival. Or well, he starts at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Posted in time once more! I'm doing the notes in a second moment because duh, I didn't want to post when it was already Sunday when I could just like, edit and write the notes later.
> 
> Anyway, on a happy note, I'm glad to tell y'all I'm finally free from exams, almost all (I have one in September, but September's a month away so...) and they all went well enough, all but one that was kinda meh. I really should review Spanish verbal tenses names... But yehhh
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter!
> 
> Nieri :D

When Tim woke he wasn’t in Mr. Al Ghul’s library anymore, which was, in and of itself, a very, very,  _ very _ bad thing. Mainly because the last thing he remembered was being in the library reading and then just- it all became black.

Looking around, Tim didn’t see anything recognizable: the room he was in was bare, devoid of anything he could have used to try and escape - the tricks Mr. Al Ghul had taught him were definitely useful,  _ that _ if only there was something he could use them on. And there was nothing, only the small mat he had awoken on and the door he must have entered through. Nothing much. It was cold, though, so maybe it was somewhere up north. Iceland, maybe? Iceland was always cold, and always had snow, so it might be? But no, if he was in Iceland or wherever that far north, he would already be frozen to death… Wait, maybe he  _ was _ dead and this was all some weird ghost thing… Did ghosts feel pain? If they were sentient maybe they did, or maybe not. He didn’t think they had any nerve ending that made them feel pain.

Tim pinched his arm: if he felt pain he wasn’t dead or a ghost, right? 

“Ow.”

Okay, he was alive, that was good. But now that warranted another row of questions: where was he, if this was not Iceland and was not Mr. Al Ghul’s home? Who had brought him here? Was Mr. Al Ghul involved in this? And, more important than anything else, had Mr. Wayne received his message? 

But he didn’t have any more time to think about that, because suddenly the door opened, and a man came in. He was tall, Tim noticed immediately, and his eyes were black and yellow. They had drawn his attention immediately, because once he had read a medical article talking about eye illnesses or something and there was one - the same one that there was in Mulan, where Shan Yu had black eyes and golden irises and why couldn’t Mulan be real and like, come save him? She could, she was cool, she’d have no problem. Maybe Tim should have stopped digressing on useless things ( _ like Mulan, like your own uselessness _ ) and focus more on what was happening in the now and here, because the man was staring at him like a lion stared at his prey. Tim didn’t want to be the prey, he wasn’t going to be the prey. Never.

“Come close, child.” 

_ Uh? No? _

Tim didn’t move, he just sat where he was and stared back. It didn’t seem like Shan Yu was pleased with him.  _ Yes, he’s Shan Yu from now on, glad we could agree on this brain. _

What happened next, he wasn’t sure of. Tim blinked once, and then, suddenly, he was standing and walking without him having decided to walk, or stand. Or whatever he was doing now. He looked at the man, who hadn’t uttered a word since that only order he had given. Because it was an order, there was no doubt about that. He couldn’t have done anything, he hadn’t even moved a hand or twirled a finger, he hadn’t. Done. Anything. 

And then Tim was moving again, but in the corner of his eyes he saw Shan Yu move his lips. 

Oh. 

And the only clear thought he had at that was  _ yer a wizard, Harry. _

\---

  
  


So, latest news said that he had appraised Mr. Al Ghul very badly, and Tim had been an utter and complete idiot -  _ fool, use better language, I know you can, Timothy, yes Mother _ \- to believe him. Even if he knew Batman and had trained him and sometimes worked with him. Tim should have known better to believe him, really, and all the proof Mr. Al Ghul had showed him was probably all fake and created ad hoc  _ and he shouldn’t have believed him at all immediately _ . 

Latest news also found Tim in a new room. It was dark, save for the faint greyish glow of the screens, and it looked like no one was in it, which was very good, because Tim was sure that he could, in no way, escape from one of Mr. Al Ghul’s Prince of Persia assassin-like  _ actual _ assassins.  _ I hope I’m not gonna die here, I really want to go back to eat ice cream with the others and hug Justice Bear once more. Will it even come back with me to the past if I hold on it when they send me back? _

But anyway, back to the empty room: Tim had stumbled upon it by chance, without even looking for it. He was in the middle of another task Mr. Al Ghul had given him - basically a treasure hunt, only if he didn’t find the treasure he would probably end up dead. Or maybe I’ll end up dead during the hunt... Mr. Al Ghul had been very clear he was not above physical punishment, even if light, he had said, for things going not the way he wanted them to go. And Tim didn’t want to find out what Mr. Al Ghul meant with “light physical punishment”. Nope, he really didn’t want that.

Anyhow, that room, that room had revealed itself to be Tim’s personal Disneyland Paris. His personal Wonderland - and that was really a good comparison, Mr. Al Ghul was definitely the Queen of Hearts.  _ Oof, I hope he doesn’t behead people like she does! _ \- because after days and days of trying to wander around unnoticed to search for it, he had finally found the computer room. 

Of course Mr. Al Ghul had a computer room, even if he had never heard of video games. Who didn’t have one this day and age? It was unthinkable! But anyway, computer room meant one thing and one thing only. He could contact Mr. Wayne. 

Tim hoped Mr. Al Ghul’s computers weren’t too hard to crack inside.

  
  
  


_ The library will be good enough… _ Good enough to hide, sure, and good enough to try and search for useful information,  _ as if you haven’t done it already all this time, you stupid! _

Arriving at the library and arriving at the library completely unscathed, though, were two wildly different concepts. 

By now Mr. Al Ghul was probably already searching for him, or he had, even more probably, sent his assassins to find him. Tim wished he could be more sure they wouldn’t apprehend him using strength, and well, after what he had done, Mr. Al Ghul had probably ordered to capture him with all the necessary means…. Which was cool and not cool at the same time.

Tim loved the Homestuck movies, really, he and his nanny always watched them the days before Christmas, when he was little, and he had always thought that it would be cool fighting thieves that way if they ever tried to rob his house... He always thought that maybe Batman would be proud of him, when he would come to take the criminals to the police, that maybe he would say yes to giving Tim an autograph… But also, now that he was actually running from bad people who could kill him - and he was running only with what he had on himself, no planned traps or anything - well, the feeling was worse than he expected.Which yeah, fair. He had had too many close calls already, in the three months he had started following Batman, and knew what villains could do to people.

Moving quietly, tiptoeing and being as fast as he could, ducking and hiding whenever he spotted people, Tim made it to the kitchens. Like the first time he went there, they were empty.  _ And this time there isn’t a treat for me here...  _

When he left the kitchens, Tim was carrying a heavier cargo and was munching on a small biscuit. If he wanted to wait out until Batman arrived, he needed food, because it was a long trip from Gotham to Mr. Al Ghul  _ secret base oh my god this is so James Bond villain! _

The passage in between the bookshelves was small, and long, and it felt safe, somewhat, which was very weird, because assassins were still searching for him, and he was also pretty sure Mr. Al Ghul would be furious with him. But anyway, he sat on the floor, the few books he had found neatly placed in front of him, and started reading, shifting every now and then, squirming because he felt observed. The small corridor didn’t feel safe anymore. Tim raised his eyes for a moment, to look around, but there was no one there, only shadows, on the shelves, on the walls, on the floor.

And then one of the shadows on the floor moved. Tim froze. And then everything went black.

\---

Shan Yu had led - really, he had forced and magicked and he didn’t know, probably also put a spell on - him to another room, bigger, with actual furniture and proper lighting and quite a few other people. Uh, they all wore the same weird clothes as Shan Yu. Maybe they had bought them from the same shop? They didn’t look modern, though, so maybe it was an antiquities shop? Modern clothes were underrated anyway, though jeans were a great invention, because those long black leather coats looked very very cool. The people who wore them, on the other hand, didn’t look cool at all.

Many were old, and the coats only looked ridiculous on them, but that was the least. No, what had had Tim thinking they weren’t cool at all was their expressions. When he and Shan Yu entered the room, they had all turned towards him, staring in silence, all focused on him. They looked like he was a fine meal and they were going to enjoy eating him shortly.  _ Uh, that I’d like to avoid… And brain stop making weird comparisons, I need to focus! _

They had stopped on front of them, when one of them, a young one, well, grown-up -  _ adult, Timothy, adult _ \- that looked weirdly like Prince John - and he was saying this in the nicest way possible - moved in front of them and put a hand on his forehead. 

“Welcome, child.” he said. “You are here because you have something of ours an-” 

Tim didn’t feel welcome at all, truth be told. “Where’s here?” he interrupted the man, “Is this Iceland? I think that if this was Iceland, I’d have probably frozen to death, so it’s somewhere less no-”

Prince John slapped him. It stung. “Silence child! You are not to speak unless you are ordered to. Am I understood?”

Eyes wide and cheek reddening, Tim nodded wordlessly. 

Prince John bowed his head once in acknowledgement and then kept going. “As I was saying, child, you are here because you stole something from us.”

_ Stealing? _ He had never stolen anything, and especially not from them? He had never even seen them!

His bewilderment at Prince John’s statement must have shown on his face, because Shan Yu suddenly spoke too.

“Once, your parents brought something of ours with them. You, somehow, managed to acquire the magical power of that artifact, becoming, de facto, the vessel of our magic. Even if unknowingly, child, you stole from us.” 

_ Oh. _

_ Does that mean I have magical powers and a magical girl transformation? Will I go to  _ Hogwarts _?  _

“You are here,” Prince John said, “because we want to get back what was ours through any necessary means. If you are lucky, child, you won’t die.”

Well, Tim didn’t want to die. He had survived Mr. Al Ghul’s weird ninja training - or was it assassin training? Was there a difference? - and had survived unnoticed the three months of vigilante-watching, and he even got Justice Bear and a dagger out of it, he couldn’t die like that! At least not without eating ice cream once more and tell his parents  _ I love you _ one last time, even if they didn’t really like him - he knew it and he still loved them.

  
Tim shook his head staring defiantly in Prince John’s eyes.  _ I’m not going to die, old fart. Watch out. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of writing, I doodled. That, combined with the first hour alone I spent singing and the rest of the afternoon spent reading made it so that I finsihed the chapter at 23.56. If you want to see the stupid doodles I can post them in the next chapters :))))


	13. a. k. a. Execute the plan, the plan goes off the rails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't a castle in Canada nice to spend the holidays? 
> 
> TW: mentions of violence, threats of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In my defense I only have one braincell left and it's dying.**
> 
> Also? For once? I? Am not? Updating? Just? Before? Midnight? What? 
> 
> **!!!!!!! ALSO, AGAIN BE CAREFUL THIS CHAPTER IS VERY DARK FOR THE STANDARDS OF THIS FIC AND THERE ARE MENTIONS AND THREATS OF VIOLENCE. !!!!!!!**
> 
> Then again, I tried to add some humour here and there. Hope my mission was accomplished :)
> 
> Also, heads up for this, I'll repeat it in the end notes too. In the next two weeks there won't be updates because I'll be away for family holidays and won't have the time to write!
> 
> Nieri :D
> 
> P.s. @ ... I put the doodles in the end, and also, I know I said I wasn't sure I'd make art for this? But I did! Here it comes too :DDDDD

When they stormed the base Ra’s Al Ghul had used to keep Tim hidden, they found themselves baffled at the lack of fighting assassins to stop them. 

Or better, some tried, but the majority were running round to escape the irate words coming from the throne hall, and the ones that had been trying to stop them hadn’t even put that much effort in it.

Which was definitely very weird and kind of terrifying. Because, if no one was trying to stop them to take back Tim, then that could mean very few things and all equally worrying. 

The other team, Young Justice plus Constantine, led by Wonder Girl, was scouting the rest of the place while his team stormed the throne room where Ra’s presumably was. And although the kids and Constantine joined them only about five minutes later, probably because they hadn’t found Tim, Ra’s didn’t look the least worried. If anything, he thought, the green-clad man looked even more furious.

“I regret to tell you, Detective, that young Timothy is not here anymore.” the man had all but spat at him.

“Where is he, then?” the others, children and adults alike, were all ready to snap, should Ra’s’ answer not be satisfying. “And don’t even think to lie to us. Everyone here is eager to kill you, and we’re ready to destroy all the Lazarus Pits still existing.”

“The truth, Detective is, that even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell any of you. But, regrettably, I do not know where young Timothy has been taken.” 

“And do you know who has taken him, Grandfather?” Robin moved closer to him, right in front of Ra’s. Batman could see the challenge in his eyes, even with the mask covering them.

“Would you really believe me if I told you?”

“It’s been the dark magicians, there’s a faint trace of their magic. They did cover it and for anyone else it would have been impossible to find, but they never met me.”

They all saw Ra’s’ eyes focus on Zatanna, and John who had instinctively moved closer to her. “So you  _ do _ know who took that dear child.” 

“As you do, Ra’s.” Batman’s eyes narrowed behind the mask, “The question now is how _ you _ know.”

“I think he worked with them.” Conner, Kon-El, Superboy, had expressed great glee when they told him that yes, if Tim was hurt he could punch whoever had done it as hard as he wanted, and if it was too hard it wasn’t like someone would have something against it. 

It was no surprise for anyone when the boy had been at the head of the group and probably among the more eager to leave, followed immediately by Cissie, Arrowette, retired hero that had come back just for this occasion. Cissie was also the one, based on immediate evidence and what little Tim and Dick had told them about her, that had less problems speaking her mind freely.

“And why would I?” 

“To exploit their work and have a chance at the whole villain spiel with the new baby, probably highly impressionable too, Tim.” Red Hood had put a hand on Superboy’s shoulder, since the young hero looked like he was about ready to sprint and pummel Ra’s into the wall at superspeed. Batman didn’t fail to notice that Hood’s right hand, laying on one of his guns, was twitching.

That seemed about right. Ra’s would definitely take advantage of the situation, if that meant he could put his hands on Tim and Damian, and Tim was defenseless as a kid, unlike Damian. Batman could bet his entire home, Batcave included, on it. 

The bothering thought of Ra’s somehow taking hold of his house and refuge, and stretching on Bruce’s own bed, a rose in his mouth, candles and rose petals all around, waiting for-  _ waiting for someone _ , definitely needed bleach to be removed from his brain. It was a scar that wouldn’t leave easily. Bruce shook his head. Brain bleach later, Ra’s now.

“The lad’s not here, chief. Better go, we’re wasting our bloody time with the wrong arlarse.”

“He’s right, we need to go!” 

“Who knows what they could already be doing to Tim?! We gotta be fast!”

“I can go and do a quick survey!”

“They’ve got magic, Impulse, you can’t go alone!”

“I can take Empress with me? She’s got magic and I have the supercycle with me?”

“The super what?”

“A super technological bike.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?! We could’ve used that!”

“Oops... I forgot?”

“No one is going there alone, and it’s final. It also would have been nice to know that before we arrived here using the jet, Impulse.”

The boy made an embarrassed sound coupled with an embarrassed expression, but otherwise didn’t move, which was surprising in and of itself.

“Batman?” Nightwing was staring at him, searching something in his eyes. A confirmation probably. Well, he wasn’t going to let him down.

“We go. Everyone get back on the jet. Superboy, Red Hood, Wonder Girl and Nightwing  _ unleash hell _ .” 

Batman didn’t need to look to see the matching dark grins appearing on the four faces to know not much would be left when they were done, and the raging cry Ra’s Al Ghul let out when a column tumbled with a loud rumble and some of his men hit the walls, was definitely enough for a pay back. 

Not even ten minutes later they were on their way to Canada, the flight proceeding with relative calm. 

Zatanna was hunched over a table with the biggest map of Canada they had been able to find, and was searching for the dark magicians’ exact position, and Tim’s, hopefully. 

Five minutes later, the four horsemen of the apocalypse - and if that didn’t describe them perfectly he didn’t know what did - were once again, aboard.

“I hope you made him pay.” He heard Arrowette say. The look on Hood’s face held the promise that literal hell wasn’t as much as what they had done.

“No killing, of course.” Nightwing nodded, a twin look to Hood’s in his eyes, “But no one said anything about destruction and gratuitous violence.”

“Ra’s won’t be back on his feet for a long while.” Wonder Girl added, “We made sure of it.”

And it was all Bruce, not Batman, the sneer that forced its way out of his throat, startling the other people on the deck. “Good.”

Not even half the way over, Zatanna had given them the specific coordinates and less than four hours later they had a solid plan and were landing in the middle of nowhere, not all that far from the Great Bear Lake - actually in the middle of the Great Bear Lake - Canada. 

The place was bare and unassuming, nothing seemed out of place. It also was empty, devoid of buildings and civilization. 

“Are you sure you took us in the correct place, witch?”

“The gremlin is right. Here’s a fucking wasteland.” 

“Not if you know where to look.” Empress replied distractedly, eyes trained on Zatanna, watching and waiting. Next to her, Constantine was too, with an awed grin.

And really, they all should know already that when Zatanna did something, she never left it halfway.

“Gnikaolc lleps odnu flesruoy!” 

And just with that, right in front of them a  _ castle _ \- and why did villains need to have a thing for castles? Wasn’t a normal house enough? - appeared out of nowhere. 

“What in fucking hell-” Hood.

“Holy cow that thing is  _ big _ !” Nightwing.

“NowcanIgoformysurvey?” 

Idly, Batman wondered how Tim and Wonder Girl had been able to reign in Young Justice in the early days, if this was how Impulse went on day by day. Suddenly he regretted not having gone to that only parent/mentor conference there had been all those years ago. If he had, maybe he’d have a better grasp on how this bunch of teenagers behaved.

The chorus of “No!” shook him back to the now and here as Impulse literally deflated in front of them. 

“ _ Fine. _ ” He heard the boy grumble. 

“Everyone, remember the plan and  _ stick to it _ . We don’t need more problems than what we’ll probably get from when we’ll cross that door.”

No one replied, but then again, he didn’t need to hear their voices to know they understood. 

“Let’s go save Tim.”

The heavy doors closing behind them on their own felt dooming.

  
  


The inside of the castle was dark, no torches lighting the bare stone walls, the dark hallways and the creaking, empty rooms. They all walked, or flown in Wonder Girl and Superboy’s case, as quietly as possible, as to try and avoid alerting the inhabitants of the castle of their position. Of course, as usual, it didn’t work.

The plan didn’t even contemplate splitting up in teams like they had in Saudi Arabia, at Ra’s’ base, but the choice had suddenly been ripped from them when one of the walls moved and blocked the way to Arrowette, Empress, Zatanna and Hood. He could hear Zatanna speaking from the other side of the wall, but he supposed not even her magic could do something now. 

“Find another way around!” He told them, “And if you find Tim  _ stick to the plan and run _ !” 

When he heard affirmative noises, he turned towards the rest of the group and started walking, passing them as he did so. “Let’s go. And Constantine?”

“Yeah, chief?”

“Try not to mope.”

Quiet chuckles filled the air as the British man sputtered an indignant reply.

  
  


The castle, as Superboy gently put it, sent ‘chills down my spine, man’, which, added to Constantine’s obvious moping - “Am not, chief. It’s this bloody place.” - was not the ideal combination to ease Batman’s nerves. Add to that the fact that it felt like they were being observed, and you had him ready to bolt and attack the first thing moving too brusquely. With the corner of his eyes he could see Robin walking close to Nightwing, obviously taking the comfort he wasn’t outright about to ask, and even Impulse, not far from them, was unusually quiet.

They didn’t even notice when it happened, they only found out when they stopped in front of a door and someone asked where Wonder Girl was. The girl had disappeared and none of them had seen it happen, none of them had been the wiser. Batman gritted his teeth and ordered them to go on. He was pretty sure they would find her wherever Tim was. The second time it happened, he was somewhat prepared. He had specifically asked Superboy to be on alert for anything weird, and he himself was walking behind everyone. 

When Constantine got captured - because that was what they were doing - he almost grabbed the thing that had snatched John. Keyword being  _ almost _ . At least now they knew what to be on lookout for. More or less. Batman hated not being in control of the and not knowing all the variables.

They were hellbent on splitting them up, that much was clear to everyone, and even if everyone was constantly looking behind their shoulders they all saw it coming when Robin disappeared from under their noses. And well, the boy was protesting very loudly, and they all followed Superboy when he bolted after Robin and the thing. When Superboy had lost the track, they had been in an old library, filled to the brim with books and papers, small statues and abandoned coats and writing material. Actually, the whole library seemed to be abandoned. 

“We might find useful information here,” Nightwing had commented in passing, “I vote we split up. Two stay here and two go on. We can communicate, since we all have comms...”

And even if he didn’t like it one bit, Batman had to admit that they might need as much information as they could get over this group of dark magicians.

“Stay on high alert all the time, always pay attention to the comms and, for god’s sake, call if you need help. Superboy, you come with me. Nightwing, Impulse, I trust you to always be careful. We are in enemy’s territory and we don’t need more people to be captured. Clear?”

“Crystal. We’ll join you two as soon as we have something.”

Batman looked at them one last time, before turning and walking towards the exit. On the door he stopped and turned towards them once more. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)
> 
> So, for everyone who reads the end notes, I wanted to say that this fic will be on hiatus for the next two weeks, not because I don't have inspiration or don't want to write, but because in two days I leave for family holidays and I won't have time to write.

**Author's Note:**

> The author loves to chat in the comments. Only positive criticism will be accepted. Please tell me what you think :)


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